When Angels Fall
by Dream Horizon
Summary: One brother makes a bargain that may ultimately cost the Winchesters more than they are willing to pay...Secret Santa fic slightly AU.
1. Chapter 1

'**When Angels Fall **

**Author's Note**

This is my Secret Santa fic for **Kaly** from SFTCOL(AR)S – Merry Christmas! – I hope you enjoy this. This has kind of grown into a multi-chapter one – I hope you don't mind –and I will update as quickly as possible.

My sincere and heartfelt gratitude to Geminigirl and Catbeist for being wonderful Beta's and giving me terrific support- especially when I read everyone else's contributions and began to panic – thanks guys!

Also thank you to the faNily for keeping me cheerful and sane though a rather difficult patch – you guys are great and looking forward to next August! Merry Christmas!

**Summary**

One brother makes a bargain that may ultimately cost the Winchesters more than they are willing to pay. This will be slightly AU as will eventually include John, Caleb and Pastor Jim.

**Disclaimer**

Except in my dreams and until that Tulpa starts working - I own nothing Supernatural. They are Kripke's - oh and while I'm on- how dare you Kripke! You had better tell us that secret soon you evil, evil genius you!

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**Prologue**

"Oh god no, please, no." The hunter's voice was begging, pleading, beseeching the night surrounding him. "This isn't happening, this _can't_ be._ Please_ God, don't let this be real." Tears fell, his despair crystallising into drops of liquid sorrow, raining down upon his fallen brother.

He looked down at the torn and broken body in front of him and reached out a trembling hand to touch the blood-smeared face. He was kneeling on the cold earth next to his brother, the oozing mud discoloured by his brother's blood. The wounds were deep, fatal, the chest torn open by the savage blow that had smashed him into a tree and knocked him unconscious. In a way it had been a blessing; if he had been awake for those wounds, his death would have been agonisingly drawn-out, though equally as inevitable.

_No, he can't be dead. There has got to be something I can do… _He pulled his brother's body too him, wrapping him in the now futile safety of him arms and tucking his brother's head under his chin as he rocked slowly back and forth.

"Please take it back." His sobs became heartbreaking. "Don't let him die, I'll do anything, let me die instead, but please, please don't take him away from me."

He murmured, pleading in a litany of anguish, a prayer in desperation.

"Are you sure?" A woman's soft voice came from behind him.

The hunter lifted his cheek from the top of his sibling's head in to glance behind. He did not care that someone had managed to sneak up behind him unawares. He had already lost that which he valued most. "Sure?" He whispered in confusion, his voice flat, dead, _broken._

"Would you willingly swap places with your brother?"

He didn't hesitate. "In a heartbeat."

The hunter looked up at the face before him, and although the features were in shadow, they were obviously female. The only feature that stood out were bright piercing blue eyes that gazed almost compassionately down at him,

"There is a price."

"There always is." The hunter acknowledged. "And frankly I don't care. Can you save him?"

"Yes."

"Will he return unharmed, as he was - his soul intact?" He was desperate, but not stupid.

"Your brother will be the same good man he was before he died."

"And how long will he live?"

She smiled, "How long is a piece of string? No-one can answer that – he will live his natural lifespan."

"But he will be alone, with no-one to watch over him." The hunter looked down at his brother, his eyes burning intensely with a mixture of hope, loss and desperation.

"I wouldn't say that. I'm sure we can arrange something as part of our agreement."

"Will I die straightaway?" The young hunter asked quietly. The woman was surprised at the complete lack of fear in his voice.

"Are you backing out already?" Disappointment coloured the woman's words.

"No. I just don't want my brother to know of the bargain. If he found out it would kill him."

"Oh I think I know how to keep a secret. You'll have exactly seven days from today – it's a nice biblical number don't you think? If God created the world in that amount of time, I am sure that should be long enough for your arrangements."

The hunter paused, mentally calculating. "Christmas Eve?"

"11:43 Christmas Eve to be precise." The figure confirmed.

"And the price?"

"A life for a life - your soul for his protection. And once the deal is struck there is no turning back."

"I know." And he did. He was entering this arrangement with his eyes wide open. It didn't matter anyway. With his brother dead, he had lost everything. He wasn't sacrificing anything he wasn't prepared to lose; at least this way it served a purpose. "One condition, if my brother finds out, this deal is non-reversible – he cannot make the same one"

"A fair condition. Besides, it can get messy and you end up going in circles - agreed."

"Can I ask your name so at least I know who I am selling my soul to?" There was power in names, he knew. He didn't expect her to go back on her word, but there was the comfort of having one small bargaining chip he could hold onto.

"Laurel - but your soul will not be mine. I'm merely the negotiator."

"So who am I making a deal with?"

"I cannot say. Client confidentiality. You will just have to take a leap of faith on this one. Would it change your decision knowing?"

"No."

The figure held out a hand. "So a deal?"

Unfaltering, Sam Winchester took her hand. "A deal."

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Dean drew in a shaky breath, the pain from earlier had eased and the darkness had faded from his vision. He opened his eyes to see Sam sitting over him, a look of tremendous relief crossing his expressive features.

"You're back." Sam sighed, his face lighting up with a grin so huge it could probably be seen from space.

"Did I go somewhere?"

"You really have to stop scaring me like that Dean." Sam murmured.

"Wuss!" Dean looked closely at his younger brother's face. He had obviously been crying. _Jesus, just how close had it been?_ "You are such a girl sometimes."

"What can I say, the thought of carrying your heavy ass back to the car was getting to me- I did consider just salting and burning you here…"

"You just want the car."

"Was planning on throwing out the tape collection though."

"You have no taste Sam."

"I'm just waiting for you to grow your hair like Ash dude."

Sam had been looking over Dean's injuries. The bleeding had stopped and the wounds were no longer as deep as they had been. The lacerations were healing and although they would be painful, were no longer life threatening and he could no longer see sinew and tendon, bone and internal organs. He shuddered at the horror of the memory - he would be glad to never again look at so much destruction to his brother's body.

"Are you quite finished eyeing my up, Princess?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised. _What the hell is up with Sam? I'm not injured that badly_.

Sam helped Dean to his feet. Heading towards the Impala and ignoring his brother's protests that he could walk perfectly well on his own, he wrapped one arm tightly around his brother. Like hell was he going to see Dean fall ever again…

The figure watched them leave and with tears in her eyes turned to her companion.

"He made the deal."

"As expected."

"He loves his brother so much." She said softly.

"I'm counting on it."

"He's a good man. They're both good men."

"Yes."

"But his soul, are we really doing the right thing? He doesn't deserve that."

"It is the only way."

"It's risky; the timing will need to be perfect."

"It's necessary. They need to understand the price of sacrifice."

"They seem to understand it better than most."

"No, they understand the idea, the concept of sacrifice. They do not understand the cost."

"And if they fail to learn?"

"Then they will lose everything."

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A/N – Kaly – hoping you like this so far!

Please read and review- looking forward to hearing what everyone thinks!

Updates should be fairly prompt and apologies to anyone waiting on an update on Lest We Forget – I will be returning to that after Christmas I promise. Just didn't have time for both…sorry….


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**

For Kaly – hope this Secret Santa fic is still to your liking…

For Geminigirl – simply an awesome Beta – this story is only better for your help – thank you! (Thanks also for putting up with my fretting!)

**Many thanks to Ridley C James for your fantastic stories – I have 'borrowed' your Caleb, he truly is a wonderful character, thank you so much for creating him and I hope that you are not disappointed in my imitation. Please let me know if you do not wish me to continue with him. **

**To anyone who has not read any of her work, please do so. She is simply one of the finest writers here and an inspiration.**

Please read and review...

**Summary**

One brother makes a bargain that may ultimately cost the Winchesters more than they are willing to pay. This will be slightly AU as will eventually include John, Caleb and Pastor Jim.

**Disclaimer**

Still Winchesterless I'm afraid but still playing with them in the vain hope they may one day stay. Although Caleb is Kripke's the version here is all Ridley's – or at least as close as a far poorer writer could get him. So, thank you Kripke (and Ridley) for providing such wonderful characters!

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**Chapter 2**

The brothers had been holed up in the motel for a frustrating two days. Sam had dressed Dean's wounds and the elder hunter was still fairly stiff and sore from the attack. Sam had wanted to make sure that no infection would set in before they hit the road, so he'd insisted they rest up for a couple of days.

Dean was never a good patient. He found it impossible to stay still for any length of time- except when he was hunting. Lying in wait, he could remain motionless for hours, but forced to stay indoors and relatively immobile, he was driving his brother to distraction.

So Sam had devised a plan. An idea had come to him that would not only help Dean rest and recover, but would also mean that Dean would have the support he would need for when the bargain was collected.

He knew his death would hit his brother hard so the least he could do was make sure that Dean was somewhere safe and had friends around him.

He had been deliberately pushing thoughts of the pact from his mind, instead focussing on making sure Dean was recovering. But now, he realised that time was fast running away from him. Only five days remained.

"Dean, I've been thinking." Sam had adopted his most persuasive tone.

"Always a dangerous move for you Sammy."

Sam ignored him. "We're not far from Pastor Jim's."

"And?"

"Well it _is _Christmas next week, dude."

"Again, _and?_" Dean looked in confusion at his brother.

"Why don't we see if we could spend it there?"

"You are not dragging me to church, Sam"

"Real home-cooked food…" Sam knew which buttons to start pressing. "And there'll be a few of us there, so Pastor Jim won't be going out of his way just for us."

"How do you know that? – You've arranged it already, haven't you?"

"It'll give us time to recover from that last hunt." _Time to say goodbye…_

"Yeah, but Sam you know how the supernatural stuff always picks up over the holiday season."

"I've already thought of that – there's what looks to be a poltergeist less than two hours from the church. Caleb was going to do it but he was held up on another hunt."

"He's hunting on his own?"

"No, I think Joshua is with him."

"Probably best – remember that last solo hunt he did when the poltergeist knocked him out of the window?" Dean shook his head at the memory – _Caleb had been lucky._

"That wasn't his fault Dean – he had a vision half-way through the hunt."

"Yeah, of being thrown through the window – talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy." _And Sam wonders why I worry…_

Sam turned his patented puppy dog look on him…_damn. _"Fine Sam – if you've set your heart on a Walton Family Christmas, we'll go." Dean sighed.

"More like the Addams Family." Dean had to laugh – it _was_ pretty much true.

"Dude, you are so Wednesday."

"Take it you're Pugsley then?" Sam asked innocently.

Dean snorted – "So who's Uncle Fester?"

"Caleb". They both said in unison and burst out laughing.

Sam felt a pang of something, not fear – more like loss. He was going to miss Dean, in more ways even than he'd realized. He always could make him smile when no-one else could.

"So should I ring him and let him know we will definitely be there?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure Sammy." Dean tried to make himself sound resigned, but Sam heard a tinge of excitement in his voice. Dean was looking forward to the break, too.

Sam grinned, took out his phone and dialled the familiar number. The phone was answered quickly. "Pastor Jim?"

"Sammy? Good to hear your voice again so soon."

"Is it still ok for Dean and me to stay for Christmas?"

"You should know by now that the both of you are always welcome here. Need I expect any trouble?"

Sam felt a small pang of guilt. "No worse than usual." He lied. "Dean was a bit bloodied and bruised on the last hunt but he'll live." Sam refused to lie more than necessary to the priest. At least he could get away with some half-truths.

"Have you heard from Caleb?" Sam asked deliberately changing the subject.

"He's still working."

"Oh? Our kind of work?"

"Isn't it always –he's come across a Daeva in Montana while he was out there on that last hunt."

"Daeva?" Sam shuddered and Dean looked at him with concern, both remembering their last encounter with Meg and hers.

"Don't worry Sam – Caleb remembers what you boys did with the flares if things get tricky. So, when will you boys be here?"

"The day after tomorrow, probably."

"Will keep an eye out for you then – take care of yourselves Sammy."

"You too, Pastor Jim."

"Isn't it about time you called me Jim? I promise no one will smite you for it." He was rewarded by a soft chuckle from the young hunter.

"Fine, _Jim_. See you later."

The Pastor hung up the phone slightly troubled. He couldn't put his finger on it, but for some reason he felt that Sam was being less than completely honest with him. And that was out of character for the younger brother – at least with those he was close to.

Sam was holding something back.

His phone went again – "I really should think about installing a switchboard or something." He sighed.

"Jim?"

"Caleb – I was just thinking about ringing you."

"I know."

"What have I told you about reading people?"

"To only do it for profit?"

Jim could hear his friend's grin. "You are incorrigible, Cal."

"Certainly try my best, Jim. So what were you thinking of ringing me for?"

"Are you definitely swinging by here for Christmas?"

"Church numbers falling Jim?"

"No it's the Winchesters."

"What's wrong?" Instantly Caleb dropped his flippant demeanour and became serious.

"Sam called me out of the blue and asked if he and Dean could stay."

"That's not really that unusual is it?"

"Aside from the fact I haven't heard from Sam in a couple of years and he and Dean haven't stayed since he was 17? There's something wrong Cal – _Sam_ sounded wrong."

"You mean possessed?" _Shit - had the demon gotten though after all?_

"No, nothing like that Cal." _I hope."_ Sam is hiding something. I know Dean was injured on the last hunt."

"Bad?"

"Again no - You know how the lad gets with Dean – he's a born worrier but he seemed convinced Dean was fine. It's something else."

"You want me to call him, see if I can pick anything up?"

"No, the boys will be here in a day or so. If Sam figures you're fishing, he might decide to bail on us. He seemed skittish."

"The kid always was highly strung Jim." Caleb was also uneasy; Jim wasn't exactly easily fazed. "Tell you what, Joshua can finish up here. Mike's here too, and it really doesn't need three of us. I can get there tomorrow. Don't tell the brothers yet – I want to surprise them." _Because if I surprise them, I might be able to pick up more than if they have time to put up any defences._

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Sam and Dean were putting their gear into the Impala – Sam fussing over his brother a lot like a mother hen.

"Pack it in Sam."

"Pack what in?"

"I'm not an invalid," though Dean did still feel strangely weaker than he would have thought, more tired, as if he was recovering from something much worse than the injuries he had sustained.

"You've had me fetching and carrying for you all day." Sam said with some exasperation.

"That's what baby brothers are there for- to run after their awesome older and far wiser big brothers."

"I can't believe you still pull that crap."

"I can't believe you still fall for it." Dean smirked. He checked the trunk.

"Damn- forgot my phone." At Sam's annoyed look, he held up his hands, "Don't worry, _I'll _go for it." He put on his best martyred look.

He started to saunter across the road, his mind not entirely alert, still fatigued and blurred from the painkillers, when he heard a sudden screech of tyres. He turned towards the sound and his eyes widened when he saw the van slewing across the street, skidding completely out of control across the half-frozen snow.

"Dean!" Sam screamed. The van was virtually on top of his brother. He would never get out of the way in time.

The van was millimetres away from Dean when it was abruptly swept away in the opposite direction to the skid and crashed into the wall of their motel.

"Dean, you ok?" Sam called, hurrying towards him...

"Fine- go check the driver."

Reluctant to leave his brother, since he didn't seem injured, Sam followed his command. He jogged across the road, catching a glimpse of a man standing on the pavement opposite, watching the scene intently. Slightly shorter than Sam and leaner, the man simply nodded a confirmation at the young hunter. Sam's senses prickled. He could feel a power emanating from the man, a sense of swirling darkness. So at least he knew that whoever he had made his bargain with was at least keeping it. That the trade of his soul, for Dean's life and continued protection, was being honoured.

Dean had also seen the other man and did not like the way his features had twisted into an almost proprietarily feral grin when he looked at Sam. Nor the way his features changed into a knowing sneer when he met Dean's gaze. He turned away before Dean could say anything, though, walking quickly and taking the memory of his features with him.

More pressing matters took over Dean's thoughts, and he shook his head to clear the fog. _Just what the hell happened?_ There was no way the driver had regained control of the van in time, no possible way that he could do given the driving conditions.

Had Sam used telekinesis? Something had definitely occurred – that had been _close_.

He approached his brother- "Dude? Everything ok?"

"He's drunk." Sam muttered in disgust. "The creep could have killed you."

"Easy tiger. He didn't. Do I owe you thanks for, that by the way?" Dean chose his words carefully, not wanting to spook Sam with what he was thinking.

"What, um, no, I don't think so."

"You don't think so?" Dean raised his eyebrows quizzically at Sam's uncertain tone.

"Maybe the driver regained control?" Sam thought desperately.

"He's passed out- and let's face it, he doesn't have control of his bladder let, alone anything else." Dean noted the smell coming from the back of the van.

Either Sam had used telekinesis to push the van away from him or something equally freaky was going on. _Maybe Sam doesn't want to admit to another episode of telekinesis, he feels isolated enough…_

Sam still hadn't responded, and Dean prodded him a little more. "Sammy?"

"Maybe you have a Guardian Angel?"

Dean looked at his brother in disbelief. "If that's the case, it's being doing a piss-poor job all these years."

"You're alive, aren't you?" Sam's voice held an edge, an anger that seemed out of place. He visibly pulled himself together. "You're fine and surely that is all that matters?" His voice now almost pleading, again sounding incongruous, as if he was talking about something else entirely.

Alarm bells started ringing – since when did Sam not want to know the far end of a fart anyway? The kid always picked at something until he knew the full truth; most of the time it was a facet that Dean admired, although at times it was bloody annoying.

"Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Christo?" Dean spoke quietly as Sam turned back to the car, effectively shutting the conversation down.

"What did you say Dean?"

"Nothing."

"We should report this." Sam's arms took in the van and the bowed motel wall-it was amazing no-one had been hurt, or witnessed it for that matter. Maybe that was something else Dean had to be thankful for.

"Let's not introduce ourselves to the local authorities if we don't have to- we'll call from a phone booth further out." Dean was watching Sam carefully now. "Is everything ok, Sam?"

"Hmmm?" Sam was buying time.

"You don't seem quite yourself."

"Just tired I guess - been a hell of a year." Sam smiled rather sadly. He felt awful laying a sympathy ploy on Dean, but had to put him off. "And you gave me quite a scare on that last hunt, not to mention all this. Just counting our blessings."

"It wasn't that bad."

"It looked a lot worse at first from where I was." Again Sam relied on that curious mixture of half-truth and deception to keep Dean from sensing the lie.

Dean had a nagging feeling that Sam was keeping something from him. "You always were a drama queen, Sam."

"Yeah, that's because you and Dad are emotionally stunted."

Dean couldn't really argue the point- the no chick-flick rule being his. He let the matter drop. For now.

They arrived at Pastor Jim's late on the 23rd. Dean was still tiring easily and Sam, not wanting to hurry the trip, had taken his time. It had been nice to not be driving to a hunt for a change, even relaxing, despite the miles and hours behind the wheel.

They had even resumed their prank wars.

It had started harmlessly enough, with the radios turned loud, Dean's mobile phone developing a fondness for Britney Spears' ring tones in crowed biker bars, and a variety of super-glued items. The final prank was played on Dean when he had fallen asleep in the bath and involved some detergent, dry ice and a literal wall of soapsuds overtaking their motel room. Being barred from the Travel Inn chain of motels was the icing on a very tasty cake.

It had been three of the happiest days of Sam's life. Both brothers had laughed until they had been nearly throwing up, and it had been nice to simply enjoy each other's company and see the sights. They had still researched a little on the Pastor's poltergeist, but they could relax knowing the Pastor would have done most of the real work. It felt good to be able to stop when they felt like it, to have relaxing evenings playing pool and darts for fun instead of for income. All in all, to have in reality a little of the "road trip with his brother" that had been their cover story since Sam had left Stanford.

The brothers had had time to talk and reminisce, and it simply reinforced Sam's belief that he had made the right decision – that there was no way in hell he would have possibly survived the loss of his brother.

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A/N…So Kaly, still enjoying this I hope?

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far – I will be replying to all this weekend now I am actually finished work for Christmas….

Please keep reading and reviewing, it is a fanfic writer's only form of payment – you lawyers hear that? Not to mention greatly appreciated…

The next chapter is all written so will have it up on Sunday at the very latest…


	3. Chapter 3

**When Angels Fall **

**Author's Note**

Secret Santa fic for Kaly of SFTCOL(AR)S continued…Merry Christmas!

Again the Caleb here is Ridley C James creation, not mine, I wish I were that talented lol! Any inconsistencies to her creation are my failings as a writer, and certainly no reflection on her. This story is post In My Time Of Dying and sligly AU -well John, Caleb and Pastor Jim are still around so maybe a tad more than slightly...

Thanks Ridley for your wonderful work.

Thanks to Geminigirl- Beta extroadinaire…

Thanks again to everyone that has read and reviewed so far…please continue to do so. Hoping you are still enjoying this one!

**Summary**

One brother makes a bargain that may ultimately cost the Winchesters more than they are willing to pay. This will be slightly AU as will eventually include John, Caleb and Pastor Jim.

**Disclaimer**

Still own nothing Supernatural related excepted the DVD's and an ever-growing odd collection of research books…oh and I guess the obsession owns me now lol!

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**Chapter 3**

Sam took their bags from the trunk of the Impala while Dean went to the door and knocked.

He was surprised when Caleb opened the door.

"You look like shit, Deuce."

"And yet still I look one hundred times better than you, Reaves." Dean's shit-eating grin lit his face.

Caleb grinned at the elder brother. "'Bout time you got here. The Pastor's wearing a hole in the carpet – he was expecting you yesterday."

"That was before Sam's last bright idea went wrong and we had to spend three hours cleaning the motel." For some, reason the picture of a wall of soapsuds came to Caleb and he spluttered – _Sam hadn't…_

"You cleaned Deuce? What, you couldn't find a woman to do that for you?"

"Well, Sammy helped so, technically, yes…"

"I heard that."

Caleb's senses were alert as he lightly scanned the older brother- technically what he was doing was impolite and Dean would _try_ to kick his ass if he knew, but Jim was right – there was definitely a rabbit off somewhere.

Dean was genuinely pleased to see the older hunter. His aura was bright with his zest for life, though there was an inexplicable eddy of weariness, as if he was recovering from serious injury or illness. But again, his aura declared him healthy- disgustingly so. Caleb could clearly see deep reds of strength and energy, black, reflective of the protective nature of the elder hunter. However, reading deeper, there was an imbalance there- not in Dean's health or state of mind, just an imbalance of energies. They were a little off-kilter, but seemingly correcting themselves as the white eddies appeared to flow with increasing strength. It baffled Caleb.

He turned to the youngest Winchester, who was making his way from the car.

"So, Runt, is Deuce here finally allowing you to drive his baby?" He called.

Sam's face jerked towards Caleb's voice and a beaming grin lit his face. The brat was as warm and welcoming as the sun – Caleb had forgotten how bright and unrestrained Sam's grin was- not to mention contagious. He could feel lips tugging in response – _dammit_ he had a reputation to maintain.

He reached his mind out to Sam to see if he could sense anything to justify Jim's concern. And for a brief instant, he picked up a nauseating mixture of deep-seated terror, sorrow and curiously, a tremendous relief at the sight of Caleb. The older psychic pushed further, but could only identify an overwhelming devotion to Dean and then Sam shut down. Completely.

Stunned, Caleb looked at Sam – he knew the youngest Winchester lacked any control over his abilities. More than anything, they were in control _of_ him, rather than the other way around. But somehow, Sam had shut Caleb out entirely. He could probably force the issue, but that could cause pain and possibly injure the young man and he wasn't willing to risk it just yet. Sam's aura though – again, there was that unbalance, the colours muddied and fluid. Healing and compassionate greens intermixed with the growing level of indigo and black of psychic ability and quiet strength. Worryingly, the balancing spiritual white seemed to be mysteriously dwindling.

_Just what the hell is going on here?_

Dean had noticed Caleb's gazed fixed on his brother, a slight frown marring the man's normally smooth forehead.

"Cal? What's wrong?"

"Is everything alright Dean?" He claimed Dean's bag as the two brothers followed him in.

"All's fine."

Everything he had picked up from Sam screamed denial of the phrase, but Dean was being open, truthful. So as far as Dean was concerned, everything _was_ fine. Which meant that Sam was keeping something from his brother, and that could only mean trouble.

"Sam?" Cal turned to the youngest Winchester.

"Fine." _Liar._

"You sure?"

"Positive." Again Caleb's senses slid over the cold, hard surface of a shield Sam was obviously hiding behind.

_But from what?_

The young hunter's face was a study of puzzlement, earnestness and innocence. Caleb opened his mouth to say something else when Jim joined them.

"Dean, Sam – glad you boys could make it. Your old room is free if you fancy it, or if you prefer I could give you separate ones?" Both brothers shook their heads. Even during his college years, Sam had missed his brother's presence. He never completely relaxed, was never fully at ease, unless Dean was nearby. And Dean, well yes he liked to be able to keep a big brother eye on his sibling, but he too rested easier knowing Sam was safely nearby.

Jim smiled knowingly. They were worse than twins, these two. How Sam had actually managed to leave Dean to go to college; how Dean had managed to _let_ him go was a mystery. But then again, they each would do anything to ensure the other's safety and happiness, so maybe it wasn't so hard to believe after all….

Sam's lanky frame quickly took him to the top of the stairs to the room he and Dean had shared on their infrequent stays.

Infrequent, but some of his fondest memories were from the times they had spent here. When John was away, Jim would encourage them to be boys, not warriors in training. They would climb trees, play soccer and basketball, fish. They had built rafts until that unfortunate incident where Sam had nearly drowned and they had discovered that garden twine, rough logs and a boisterous thirteen- and nine-year-old were not an ideal combination. Especially when said twine was older than the Pastor…

"Hey, Tinkerbell - you asleep up there or what?" Dean called up to Sam. He must have been daydreaming, lost in his memories, for longer than he had thought.

Oh yes, and how could he forget Dean's Peter Pan phase? At least Caleb had made an entertaining Captain Hook – he had even taught both of the brothers how to swordfight. He was probably the reason why Sam still preferred a knife to a gun. It was more controlled, there was less risk of collateral damage and it was more reliable when wanting to incapacitate rather than kill. Not to mention easier to defend against if disarmed.

Dean, on the other hand, had quickly been swayed from his fascination with swords as soon as he had seen Indiana Jones dispatching the sword-wielding villain with a single shot. _Probably where his fondness for the leather jacket and smart-ass comments had come from too..._

"Hey Runt – get your freakishly long-legged ass down here and grab Dean's bag!" Caleb shouted up the stairs, sounding disgruntled. _That said, Dean's attitude could be down to Caleb's influence too…._

Sam couldn't help the grin on his face though as he made his way back down and for one instant looked happy and unguarded, an old reflection of the open and amicable child he used to be.

"What?" He stopped halfway down the stairs at the collection of faces grinning up at him.

"Did Dean stick something on me again?" He twisted around to try to get a glimpse of his back. The grins grew wider.

"What?!"

"You are so easy to wind up, brat." Caleb chuckled.

"Do you mind stop calling me brat?" Sam asked a tad testily.

"Dunno." Caleb turned to Dean. "Has he stopped being a brat, Deuce?"

"Dude, you should see the tantrums he throws these days."

"I do not throw tantrums."

"Hissy fits then."

"**_Dean!"_**

"See? His pet lip is out already. Seriously, he pouts better than Marilyn Monroe when he starts."

"I do not pout."

"C'mon Sam - you know you could brood for your country. If there was a Sulk Olympics, Sammy here would be holding the gold."

"Just because I don't turn into Mr Sunshine when I come across a decapitated head…"

"Mr Sunshine, no – Mr Needs Bucket, yes."

"That was weak, dude."

"You know you find me funny, Sam- stop fighting it."

"I will if you do."

"I do what?"

"Stop fighting being funny."

"If you have to explain it Sam, it ain't funny."

Sam shook his head and stalked away while Dean and Caleb shared a smirk. Sammy-baiting had always been a favourite pastime.

The dark-haired man sat back from the scrying bowl – a hand wiping across his tired eyes.

The Winchester brothers reminded him a lot of how he and his brother had been before . . ." Angrily, he stopped the painful thoughts as he tipped the herb-infused water out from the bowl and poured blood into it. He delicately swirled his fingers through the viscous fluid, the copper tang for the first time actually twisting his stomach.

"The brothers are with the Priest." He reported, clearing his mind. "Yes, the plan is underway." A pause. "No, the elder brother suspects nothing. I had to run interference with the psychic." A question. "No, he thought it was the younger brother." He paused again, listening. "Yes, Sam Winchester's soul will soon be yours. All will be ready." A comment. "Thank you, Father."

Nick finished the ritual and rocked back. He pulled a talisman from under his shirt and murmured a brief incantation. Light flowed from the corner of the room, and the slight figure of a woman emerged.

"Nick." She acknowledged, tilting her head slightly as she warily watched the man in front of her.

"Laurel – is everything in place?" His palms were sweating, he could not afford for anything to go wrong now.

"The exchange is in motion, the covenant in place."

"The talisman will hold?" That was probably the most important aspect – if it didn't, his Father would be unforgiving and his punishment swift.

"Yes. Are you sure this is the path you wish to take?"

"I have no choice."

"You lied to me, Nick. You used that man's love for his brother to trick him. You used me, too." Anger laced her words.

"Again, I had no choice."

"There is always a choice."

"Fine, it was the only choice I was willing to make." Nick said bitterly.

"What hold does that Demon have on you, that you would do such a thing?"

"He's my Father."

"So you do this out of love?" She mocked.

"Yes." _Without question._

Laurel looked at him closely. "I don't believe you."

"I do it because I wish to." Nick knew he sounded less than sincere.

Laurel remained silent, her sceptical expression relaying her thoughts as clearly as if she had spoken.

"The trade will take place as planned. Sam Winchester will die, his soul forfeit."

"Your plan could still work Nick – you don't have to do this." Laurel tried desperately. She knew she could not alter the bargain itself; the contract made was final and binding.

"You cannot change your nature. I am who I am. I cannot change that." And with that he murmured a second incantation and the light filled the room once more, and then faded, taking the image of the young woman with it.

Nick knew that time was on his side now - all he had to do was wait. _I hate the waiting. That's the hardest part. ._He sighed._ And_ _I need a drink_

Across town Dean stuck his head into his and Sam's room. "Cal and I are thinking of heading into town – you want to come?" Half expecting Sam to say no, he was pleasantly surprised when Sam nodded with a smile.

"Sure, just let me get changed."

The Winchesters and Caleb entered a rather seedy looking and smoky bar set off the main road – _what is it with Dean and biker bars? Must be the leather…_Sam muffled a snort…

"I'll get this round." Sam gestured towards the pool table. "Grab that before it's taken." Dean was taken further aback –sure, Sam had been a heck of a lot more sociable the last few days, but Dean had expected Jim's library to be an irresistible temptation to his younger brother since he used to have to bribe him to get him to leave it. And normally, he would sit back and watch everyone around him having a good time while he nursed one of his two beers. However, Sam the last few days had been actively seeking out activities that were normally more Dean's cup of tea – not that Dean was complaining. In fact, Sam was a lot like the pre-college version of his brother, the kid keen to be a part of his big brother's life, the mischievous and life-loving younger brother from back before the demon had shattered his heart by killing Jessica.

Dean's eyebrows rose still further when Sam returned with three bottles of beer and three whiskey chasers.

"You're actually drinking the hard stuff, Sam?"

"Dude- I'm 23."

Caleb and Dean looked at each other, confused. This just wasn't like the younger hunter at all. Dean shrugged; the prospect of a drunken Sam was always entertaining.

He rose to set up the pool table.

A dark-dressed figure wandered over from the corner. He stood an inch or so shorter than Sam and seemed for some reason vaguely familiar. His short dark hair was fashionably spiked and startling green eyes lit with mischief as they assessed the group before him. "Care for a game?" he asked Dean.

Dean hesitated, his senses telling him to walk away from the stranger, but although Caleb looked suspicious, it was just their normal hesitation with strangers rather than something ominous. _Man I need to relax_. "Maybe later." The other man grinned, shrugged and headed off to the bar.

Dean and Caleb were playing their third game when Sam's easy laugh erupted from behind him, almost causing Dean to miss his shot. He looked across at his brother and groaned.

Sam was obviously drunk and was chatting animatedly with the stranger from earlier. The elder Winchester potted the last ball to lead two games to one and grinned at Caleb.

"Losing your touch, old man?"

Caleb gestured rudely at Dean. "Really dude – sore loser or what." He wandered casually towards his brother.

"So, Sam, gonna introduce us to your friend?"

"Hey, De." _Yup, his kid brother was wasted._ "Nick, this is my big brother De, I mean Dean. Dean this is Nick."

Nick held out a hand to the elder hunter. "Nice to meet you Dean."

Dean shook his hand; however he couldn't seem to shake the feeling that there was something familiar about the young man in front of him. He couldn't seem to shake the feeling that he had seen him somewhere before – _but where?_

_TBC_

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A/N.

Alrighty - a little more of a cliff hanger - hope I haven't disappointed! Posted early just for you Kaly! See the fear I live in lol!

So, what do you think? Please let me know…..

Just in case I do not have the chance to finish the next chapter before Christmas Day, please let me take this opportunity to wish everyone a wonderful Christmas! Best wishes to you all!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**

**Happy New Year to all!**

**Kaly – **Hopefully you still like, bear with me for the first part of your request will be in Chapter 5…

Geminigirl and Beist – Thank you for being such wonderful Beta's and a constant support- without you I probably would not have made it this far sane-ish lol!

The Caleb here is still based on Ridley C James creation- Thanks Ridley for creating such a wonderful character. Hoping I haven't disappointed.

My thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far.

**Summary**

One brother makes a bargain that may ultimately cost the Winchesters more than they are willing to pay. This will be slightly AU as will eventually include John, Caleb and Pastor Jim.

**Disclaimer**

Santa did not leave them under the tree – I'm so disappointed – so no adding insult to injury and suing ok?

**Warnings**- There will be a fair bit of swearing in the next couple of chapters, mainly the f, s and b words…If they didn't listen to John, what hope have I got? 

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**Chapter 4**

Nick shook Dean's hand. "Fancy a game?" He gestured at the pool table.

"Sure – Hey, Cal, keep an eye on Sam "

"I'm not a puppy Dean, I don't need watching." Sam muttered defensively.

"We'd better watch it Deuce. Your puppy is mad." Caleb teased good-humouredly.

Sam threw a beer mat at the older man.

----------------------------------------------------

The night continued and Dean found himself warming to Nick. The other man had a dry and observant sense of humour that frequently had them all laughing out loud, and the elder brother had to admit, he was one hell of a pool player. He was even giving him and Cal a run for their money.

They decided to call it a night when Sam slid boneless off the chair. Surprisingly he was caught not by Dean but by Nick. Dean flashed a grateful smile at the other man.

"I think you brother may have had enough to drink." Nick grinned.

"I'm amazed he's lasted as long as he has." Dean chuckled affectionately.

Nick was struggling to get Sam on to his feet. "Jesus, the kid's all legs…" Finally, he and Dean managed to pull a Sam swaying onto his feet.

"I just called Jim – he'll pick us up. Sam'll never make it back on his own two feet Your brother just cannot hold his liquor, Deuce" Caleb commented as he walked back into the bar to the sight of the two men trying rather futilely to keep Sam upright. The youngest Winchester seemed determined to flop forwards, his head bobbing and his bangs hiding his face.

"I'm fine." Sam slurred, waving at Dean and Nick to let him go. He promptly toppled over the bar stool behind him.

"Sure you are, Sammy." Dean snickered.

Giggles could be heard from the vicinity of the floor. "OK. Maybe not. Gimme a hand will ya?"

The three men stood looking down at the youngest hunter and gave him a round of applause.

"Bastards." Sam glared up without much focus before grinning good humouredly. "Help me up you lazy jerk."

"C'mon bitch, time to get you home."

They had dropped Nick off at his apartment and Dean and Caleb had struggled to get the now singing Sam back into the house. Jim had joined the mix, bringing up the rear as the younger men flanked Sam's sides. By this point the three other hunters were finding it very hard to keep straight faces. Sam was not going to be pretty in the morning.

"I can take him from here." Dean nodded his thanks to Jim and Caleb as he tossed his jacket onto the bed and gently lowered his brother down. Jim wordlessly passed him a bucket.

"Thanks." Dean grinned wryly.

Sam was already floating in and out of a drink-fuelled doze and only stirred when Dean pulled his shoes off.

"No, I can man, mana, mani? … Do it mysel." He muttered fumbling with his clothes as he tried to rise. He slid off the edge of the bed into a heap on the floor.

"Mebbe I'll just stay here - nice and comfy…" He curled up around Dean's jacket that had fallen onto the floor with him.

"No you don't, Sam. Upsy daisy." Dean pulled Sam back onto the bed with a sigh. This was going to be a long night.

"Not a daisy, daisy's a cow…" Ok, so it was going to be one of those conversations.

"What do you prefer, Lassie? She's a bitch too."

"Actually, _she _was a dog."

"Don't put yourself down, Sam – you're not that ugly. Not a patch on me obviously…"

"No, she was a he."

"Only on your dates, dude."

Sam sniggered – "What about that girl in that bar in Wichita?"

"Now, dude, that was unfair- she had legs on her up to her here." Dean held a hand to his chest.

"It was what she had between them you had to be careful about." Sam's snort erupted into full blown giggles.

"At least I noticed _before _anything happened."

"Only cos the barmaid told you as you two were heading out of the bar."

Dean shuddered at the memory – talk about close calls.

He held his brother steady as he stripped down to his boxers and helped him into bed, careful to make sure Sam was lying on his side, just in case. Dean left the bedside light on so that he could keep an eye on him.

Dean quickly undressed and climbed into bed himself – he'd forgotten just how damned cold this place got in winter. Sam had been silent for a few minutes and Dean was convinced the kid had fallen asleep…or at least passed out, so he jumped when Sam spoke.

"De?"

"Yes Sam."

"I don't want to go to hell." _There, he had said it._

Dean stared at his brother in shock. "What?" _Where had that came from?_

"When I die, I don't want to go to hell."

"What_ are_ you talking about dude? You are the last person on earth who would be going to hell." His brother was the gentlest, kindest person he knew. There was no way he was going to hell. _Where had that idiotic idea come from?_

Sam smiled with a wise sadness in the semi-darkness that caused Dean's heart to falter.

"Besides, they don't let in geeks. You'd annoy the devil with your incessant questions. Now, me, on the other hand-"

"No, you're going to heaven." Sam spoke with earnest confidence.

"What the hell are you going on about?" Dean winced at his choice of words. In a way he was genuinely curious - he didn't exactly live the monastic lifestyle after all.

"You're the selfless hero Dean - surely you can see that? You have done nothing but look after me and Dad, and everyone else all of your life. And you were the innocent one really; you were the one robbed of your life Dean." Although Sam's words were still slurred, they were becoming steadily clearer in his vehemence. _Because of me. _

"And you chose this? How many times do I have to tell you, none of this is or ever will be your fault." Dean's anger started to rise.

"I'd like to see Mom again." _And Jess_…

"Jesus, Sam you're a maudlin drunk. We are not doing this, we are not going down this road. Anyway, I thought we were supposed to live forever, remember?"

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**_Sam remembered. He had been a terrified eleven year old when Dean had nearly died on a hunt. A spirit had knocked the elder brother into the dug up grave and had pushed earth on top of him. Dad had managed to get him out quickly_**,**_ but Dean had not been breathing and John had had to perform mouth-to-mouth. Once Dean was breathing again, Sam couldn't be prised from his brother's side and had attached himself like a limpet to his adored sibling whilst John had run for the truck to take his eldest to the hospital to get him checked out._**

_**Sam had wrapped his own coat around his brother as well as Dean's leather jacket as Dean leaned weakly against a tree, trying to get his strength back. "Are you ok De?"**_

"_**I'm fine." **_

"_**You nearly died."**_

"_**But I didn't." Dean's grin was cocky, though if he were honest, he was badly shaken. **Suffocation is so not the way to go**. He had never been so scared in his life when he couldn't breathe, with the damp earth pressing on him, clogging his nose and mouth and eyes…he shuddered.**_

"_**You could have though. Promise De; promise me you'll not die."**_

"_**I can't do that Sammy. What am I meant to do, live forever?"**_

"**_Yes." Sam's answer was fierce and Dean had almost smiled. _Almost._ "I won't let you die – I won't." Sam's chest had started to hitch and Dean had pulled him in a tight hug. "Shhhh, I'm not going anywhere."_**

_**Sam looked at his brother. "De?"**_

"_**Yes Sam?"**_

"_**If you do ever leave, promise to take me with you?" **Oh Sammy**. If that wasn't an indication of how fucked up his family was, that his kid brother could come up with a suggestion like that at **eleven._

"_**Tell you what Sammy, I'll live forever if you will. Deal?" It was utter nonsense, Dean knew, but there was no way he could accept his baby brother dying, **no way in hell._

"_**Deal."**_

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"Oh. Yeah, I remember." Sam murmured again with a sad wistfulness that caused Dean's heart to freeze.

"Sam? Sammy? Talk to me kiddo – there's something wrong; you've been hiding something from me all week. I'm not stupid."

"Never said you were."

"Well you must think I am if you think you can hide anything. I know you Sam. And you haven't been yourself."

"Who am I then, Dean? You know me so well, just who the hell am I?" _Or should I be asking what?_ Sam had swung from a happy drunk to maudlin to belligerent in a matter of minutes it made Dean's head spin.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm a freak Dean, a psychic jinx. I kill everyone I love and it's only a matter of time before it's you. "

"Bullshit, Sam."

"At least…" Sam stopped. _Shit, what am I doing?_ I'm being weak again- Dean doesn't need to know. Telling Dean would relieve some of Sam's burden, but would increase his brother's unbearably.

T_ell him, maybe he can help. With Jim and Caleb, surely they could figure this out?_ Sam's sense of self-preservation was developing a voice of its own.

No, what if they reversed it? That would mean Dean would be the one to die. _No._

_Maybe they can find a way around it._

No, Laurel was quite clear – if he broke his pact, it would automatically reverse and everything would go back to how it was. Dean would die.

_She could have been lying._

But what if she wasn't? He couldn't take the risk.

"Please Sammy, tell me what's wrong." Dean pleaded.

"I . . ." he wracked his brain for a plausible lie. "I just miss Jess, Dean. She loved Christmas, y'know. Used to drag me carol singing, midnight mass, the whole nine yards." His brother looked sceptical. "And I'm scared Dean. Scared that I'll lose you too, and that it'll be my fault. I'm scared of what the demon has planned and that I can't stop it." It wasn't like he was lying; it was just that none of that really mattered anymore.

"We'll stop it, Sam. I told you before; nothing bad's gonna happen to you. Not while I'm around."

"What if..."

"No more 'what if's' Sam. You aren't alone. You'll never fight this alone, ok?"

"Ok." Sam was just glad that Dean seemed to be buying it.

"Now go to sleep Sam. We'll talk about this tomorrow."

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It was Christmas Eve morning and Sam felt ill. _What was I thinking?_ He glanced across at the other bed half expecting to see his brother still dead to the world, but the bed was empty. Slightly alarmed, he sat bolt upright and groaned as his head exploded. Part of him wished it were literally.

"Morning sunshine – feeling ready for a little exercise?" Dean had decided to leave their conversation from the night before alone for now. It had probably been the drink talking– at least, Dean hoped that's all it was. Besides he had plenty of time to wangle it all out of his brother. And he had a feeling it would take a heck of a lot more than one conversation to unravel all of Sam's demons.

Sam looked at his brother in disgusted disbelief. Dean was all-bright eyed and bushy tailed – although his saving grace was the full fry up he carried in on a breakfast tray, along with a simply huge coffee that Sam eyed appreciatively.

"See how I look after your lazy ass? Get this down and you'll feel a hundred times better."

"So just deathly then." Sam groaned.

"You are such a wuss dude; no one has ever died from a hang-over."

Sam shook his head, groaning as the subtle movement made his dizziness increase. His stomach growled for a taste of the fry up, but churned a bit at the prospect of actually ingesting it

"Yeah, but this family never follows the normal rules.

"True – anyway it's your own fault Sam – no-one forced you to drink anything. And although you singing Karaoke is always entertaining, it is generally best if you do it in a Karaoke bar." At Sam's look of mortification, Dean continued. "I was impressed you picked an Alice Cooper song, better than Gloria Gaynor any day…"

"Oh God, tell me I didn't?" Sam had absolutely no memory of the night before.

"Oh you did…with gusto." Dean returned mercilessly, a wide grin splitting his face. "Now eat up princess, we have work to do."

"Work?"

"Well, we could polish that Poltergeist off today and then relax for the rest of the holidays.

"Can we not wait till after Christmas? It's not like there's anyone there?" Sam asked wistfully. He did not want to spend his last day with Dean hunting- he had had plans to help finish decorating the house and a few loose ends he wanted to tie up.

"Caleb and Jim have done all of the research – it'll only take an hour- two, tops."

"Fine." Sam said resignedly. _Why should his last day be any different to the rest of his life? At least he would still be spending some time with his brother, and Dean loved to hunt…_

Dean left Sam with a smirk at his brother's discomfort.

"How's the kid doing?" Caleb asked from the hallway with an amused grin.

"Suffering." Dean replied with a matching wolfish smile.

"Are you sure you should go on this hunt today?"

"He'll be fine- it'll teach him about moderation."

"What do you know of moderation, Deuce?"

"Sure I read about it somewhere – anyway you'll be there right?"

"What's this? A working holiday?"

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Nick was sitting in the chair in the window of his apartment, his head in his hands. He knew what had to be done today – and couldn't bear the though of it. He had been watching the Winchesters for some time now, and if he were honest with himself, he had grown rather fond of them. If discovered, it was a weakness he would be punished severely for.

But Nick couldn't help but admire them. The two brothers constantly put their lives on the line for complete strangers. They were strong, courageous, skilled hunters but still somehow managed to retain their moral integrity and compassion. They had remarkably managed to balance the need to kill evil supernatural beings against the danger being consumed by it. They had sailed close to the edge of darkness but instead of being tainted by it, they seemed to be able to cast their brightness outwards, to bring light into the shadows and to banish the cold from some of the souls ensnared within.

Watching the brothers and their struggle to do what was right had Nick questioning his own loyalties.

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Nick's mother had been a dark witch who had willingly submitted herself to the attentions of a demon and he was the result, a bastard half-demon hybrid. If it hadn't been for his brother, Nick would have been lost a long time ago.

Mark had been a lot like Sam. He, too, had a purity of spirit, a warm and gentle soul. He had been a sweet kid, a little naïve with a heart of gold – and was idolised by his elder brother. Unlike Nick, Mark was fully human, the result of a one night stand. He had no supernatural abilities, no psychic gifts and as such, was shunned by their mother.

Had it not been for Nick, his brother would have been cast out onto the streets, or worse, as a sacrifice in one of his mother's rituals. So, Nick had raised him and had kept the kid well away from his mother and her kind. The two had balanced each other – Mark being the light for Nick and Nick protecting his brother from the darkness.

However, his mother and the demon had had other plans for the elder brother. They were plans in which Mark had no place and Nick had been pulled further and further away from his kid brother. His mother had feigned illness, playing on Nick's love and loyalty to her as her son, to keep him from straying too far. She had falsified doctor's records and made pretence of being housebound to ensure that Nick visited daily, forced to run her errands and that he was gradually drawn back into the world which he had tried so hard to escape.

He closed his eyes, and Mark's face instantly appeared before him.

Seventeen years old and full of life, Mark was always smiling. He had done well at school and had applied to a number of colleges, with glowing references and a decent SAT score; he was guaranteed a place in college – until the day of the car accident.

Mark had been hurt by a hit-and-run, the driver leaving him for dead on a freezing, dark and empty street. Mark had hung on for four days before finally succumbing to his severe injuries, never wakening to hear his brother's pleas to stay.

Nick had been inconsolable.

The Demon had come to him then, promising vengeance and retribution, but would not give him back what he wanted most. Not until he sold his human soul to him, swearing fealty to his father and their kind.

And still, the demon had not kept his part of the bargain.

So Nick had become desperate and sought out other means – Laurel.

Laurel had been a reaper held in service to another Demon – a demon Nick had destroyed just to get his hands on her. He had, in turn, bound her to him.

A Reaper was neither good nor evil; however he had been amazed by her compassion. _How could she still reap and retain that?_

He recalled the day he had asked that question,

"How could I be a reaper and not be compassionate?" She had asked seemingly genuinely puzzled. "If we did not appreciate the lives we released, we would be killers, not reapers. We see such sorrow, courage and heroics every day; we release souls in pain and suffering and help them on their journey."

"Have you ever taken the wrong person?"

"No. It is not permitted. If we take a soul before their time, we would cause terrible pain to them. In a way, it is like pulling a tooth. When it is ready, if falls away easily; if not it takes great effort and pain. By exerting force to remove something that is not ready, it may shatter or splinter or leave a piece left behind.

"What difference would that make?" Nick had asked curiously.

She appeared shocked at his question. "It would cause agony to the soul, perhaps even cause irreparable damage."

"And the body would die?"

"Eventually, within a day or two, yes. Even if they were healthy and whole. Less if injured or ill. That is why we cannot do it – we cannot interfere in the natural course of things.

"Cannot – or will not?"

She refused to answer.

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Dean, Sam and Caleb approached the house of a family who had been tormented by a poltergeist in the six months they had lived here. The problems had increased in intensity as Christmas had approached. The family had known Jim and had come to him the week before when the annoying turned to increasing violence, a malevolence growing.

Fortunately, the resident family had relatives in Chicago and decided to go there for the holiday period, which was why there had been no real hurry to get to this hunt.

They had each taken a bag of herbs similar to the ones that Missouri had made for their old home in Lawrence. The three of them each carried axes and shotguns as they entered. Good job they have no neighbours too close, Sam thought with a smile, they might get a little suspicious.

The plan of action was for each to take a side of the house and whoever finished first would take the fourth. Nothing had been said, but for some reason, this had sparked an almost competitive edge and each man was determined to get to the fourth pouch first.

Sam and Dean unconsciously went for the rooms that had last been so dangerous to the other. Sam had taken the south, facing kitchen; Dean, the west wall of the master bedroom; Caleb, the north face of the attic leaving the east side of the cellar for whoever finished first. In addition to the herb pouches needing to be implanted on walls of all four points of the compass, all levels of the house had to be covered in order to ensure that there was no hiding place left for the poltergeist.

The house remained quiet, waiting, watching. It did not fool the experienced hunters for a second.

Sam entered the kitchen warily. There were a number of sharp objects he did not want to become acquainted with. Upstairs, he could already hear Dean hacking into the wall. He watched the knives nervously as he started hacking into the wall. He should have kept his eye on the toaster.

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Dean entered the bedroom and headed straight to the west wall. He quickly chopped a hole into it while keeping a watchful eye on the bedside lamp. It was still an image that haunted him - coming upstairs to find his brother on the floor, his gasps growing harsh, his struggles weakening. The terror he had felt when he failed to be able to move the cord that was wrapped tight around his brother's throat, stealing his life away from him, still caught his breath. The horror of his brother's form beginning to still as he threw the bag into the cavity still caused Dean's stomach to clench. He could clearly recall the absolute, leg-buckling relief when he saw that Sam had survived. He had been so thankful that he had almost hugged the kid. Not a Winchester move, and it showed just how close he had come to losing his baby brother.

Dean shook his head…"Mind on the game, Dean." He muttered. No point dwelling on the past. They were both together, relatively whole and once this was over, comparatively safe at Jim's. They were surrounded by fellow hunters, on sacred ground, and for once, they would be able to relax.

Dean should really have remembered the saying about not tempting fate.

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**A/N** – Please let me know what think so far – thought I should provide a bit of back story on Nick- the next Chapter is virtually all Sam and Dean…

Initially this and the next one was all one chapter, but it grew on me, so thought this was a good a place as any to stop, but will be posting the next chapter today as a New Years gift to you all….Haven't replied to reviews so far as yet as not much point till fanfic starts to play nice, but once the alerts restart, will do my best to reply to each and every one of you kind enough to leave a review.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note**

For Kaly – Here's the first part of your Secret Santa request – hope it is ok.

For Geminigirl – Thank you for keeping me right and pointing out the British-isms that are determined to sneak in lol!

For Sifi – as a thank you for a lovely New Year's treat!

And for everyone who has reviewed so far – thank you! You keep me going…

Just a reminder, this Caleb is based on Ridley C James – I ain't that good unfortunately….

**Summary**

One brother makes a bargain that may ultimately cost the Winchesters more than they are willing to pay. This will be slightly AU as will eventually include John, Caleb and Pastor Jim.

**Disclaimer**

Nope not mine, though it is on my New years resolution list…..

**Warnings**

Some bad words….oh and um, well, you knew it was coming right?...coughapparent character deathcough hides

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**Chapter 5**

Caleb hurried to the attic room. Something was definitely off here. And not just the house. He kept picking up something akin to fatalism from Sam. The kid knew something he was keeping from his brother – a vision perhaps? And how the hell was he keeping it from Deuce? If he and Jim could both sense that Sam was hiding something, Dean's instincts should have been screaming at him by now. Hell, the runt usually couldn't even sneeze without Dean knowing…

Suddenly a vision assailed him. He could see Dean lying on the ground, blood pouring from terrible chest wounds, could see his organs exposed. Sam was kneeling beside his brother, completely distraught.

As the image faded, Caleb fought the urge to turn and ran back down the stairs. Sam and Dean were outside in his vision, so it was obviously not happening now, so it must be the future. It couldn't be the past because the Dean in his vision was most definitely dead.

Caleb quickly strode to the north facing wall and, making a hole, he deftly deposited the pouch and then virtually sprinted from the room to check on the two young hunters.

"John would kick my ass if anything happens to his boys on my watch." He thought to himself. It had nothing to do with his own feelings at all, he sternly told himself.

He met Dean coming out of the bedroom. "Any problems?"

"No, it's quiet."

"Where's Sam?"

In answer, they heard a yell and a muffled thud from downstairs and they took off at a run.

Sam staggered out of the kitchen door, blood trickling down from a gash above his left eye, flowing across a very pissed-off expression.

"What happened to you?" Dean automatically reached out one hand to tilt his brother's chin so that he could check his pupils – both were fine. Sam slapped his hand away in irritation.

"I'm fine, it was just a toaster."

"And I thought it was dad who struggled with those?" Dean teased lightly.

Sam grinned ruefully. "Apparently, it must run in the family. I suppose I should just be grateful it didn't try to choke me."

"So, that just leaves the basement." The previous competitive good humour had left the group, they just wanted to finish this and head out of the house. All three had a bad feeling.

"I'll do it." Caleb volunteered, suddenly feeling a need to protect Dean, _but from what?_

"We'll cover you." Dean had the rock-salt filled shotgun at the ready and Sam picked up his own. They cautiously approached the cellar door; they knew that if the poltergeist was going to attack, this would be the time, given that this would be its last chance.

Out of nowhere, an invisible force grabbed Caleb and flung him down the cellar stairs. "Caleb!" Both brothers called and quickly hurried after him, only to find him in a crumpled, unconscious heap at the bottom of the stairs.

Sam knelt and checked the older psychic's pulse and nodded to Dean. Caleb was fine – though he would have a hell of a headache. His temple was already beginning to colour with a bruise.

"Well, I'm betting he didn't see that one coming?" Dean smirked. He quickly located the fallen pouch and moved towards the eastern wall. Unseen, a metal rod began to unscrew itself from an old home –made wine rack in the corner.

_Turn…_

Dean picked up Caleb's axe that had landed close to the wall from when Cal had fallen. At least he had had the good fortune not to land on the bloody thing.

_Turn…_

He hefted the axe preparing to strike the wall- _this'll be a bitch_, he thought looking at the solid wall in front of him. He spotted a hole in the wall further along.

_Turn…_

He walked towards it – a nice ready made hole would make life a whole lot easier he thought. Even if it as at finger tip height for him. (Like hell was he asking Sam to reach it for him, he would never let me forget it)

_Turn…_

He reached for the hole, his broad shoulders now openly exposed.

Caleb cracked his eyes open to look blearily across the room. Sam was standing guard behind his brother, watching for any sign of danger. If it wasn't for the fact that Caleb was looking directly at the rack, he would never have seen it - but the minute movement caught his eye. He watched the metal rod slowly turning. He opened his mouth to yell, but it felt like he was moving through molasses, his vocal cord tight, seemingly restrained by invisible hands.

In horror, he saw the rod come loose and fly directly at Dean's unprotected back.

Sam saw the rod at the last second before it plunged into Dean's shoulder. Only it didn't. The air around it seemed to glow as he felt energy spark off the metal and suddenly the rod simply vanished. Sam bit his lip in agony as he felt the rod pierce his own shoulder. He could feel the pain but there was no sign of the rod or any blood. That he knew would come later.

Caleb watched in amazement when the rod disappeared and turned stunned eyes to the younger man when he heard Sam's gasp of pain. He saw Sam stiffen and the agony flare in his eyes, pain that was quickly subdued and disguised. John had taught them well.

"Sammy? You ok?" Dean too had heard Sam's intake of breath.

"Fine – just twisted a muscle." Sam spoke through gritted teeth as the pain finally ebbed and he sagged.

Dean placed the last pouch in the hole and a brilliant white light filled the house and they could hear the wail of anguish as the poltergeist fled before it and it was cast out.

"Well, that went well – apart from Damien trying to be all Humpty-like."

Caleb was struggling to keep his eyes open, his mind was frantically trying to tell him something. But he couldn't quite clear the fog and his eyes were determinedly closing on him.

"No, you don't" Dean growled as he pulled Cal to his feet. "Let's get Pastor Jim to have a look at you."

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Jim had pronounced Caleb "Probably mildly concussed." And had suggested taking him to the hospital to get his head examined.

"About time." Dean had muttered.

"At least I have something to be examined Deuce."

"No-one said anything about brains Reaves, just your head, don't get too excited."

There was something niggling at the back of Caleb's mind, but try as he might, he couldn't remember it.

"Deuce, watch the brat while I'm gone."

"Why I didn't know you cared Cal." Sam walked over to them, his eyes sparking a warning, a clear message…_this is none of your business Reaves- back off…reverberated in Caleb's mind loud and clear…_what the fu.?

_Language Cal, we're in a house of God after all. This is about family, mine, not yours - now keep you overly developed curiosity to yourself._

Caleb withdrew, stung. Now, that was not the young hunter he knew and loved like his own, at least not the Sammy he had helped raise. But then, he hardly new the post-college Sam; he could have changed. _Not fucking likely_ – there was something else going on…Caleb could almost touch it…

Abruptly, the faces in front of him vanished and it was night-time. He was outside, snow was falling and in the distance he could see Jim's church. Unexpectedly, a woman's cry rang out from behind him and he spun. A slim blond woman in her mid twenties was backing away from what was the biggest black bear he had ever seen in his life. The bear snarled, foaming at the mouth. It was obviously mad…_or rabid._ The woman tried to run but it was no use. The bear struck her down in seconds; she shrieked in agony before quickly being silenced as the bear tore into her.

Caleb awoke to find Jim, Dean and Sam bent over him, identical looks of concern on their faces.

"How you feeling Cal?" The Pastor asked quietly.

Caleb closed his eyes as the image of the woman's final moments came back to him. "There was a bear, Jim. Not far from here – it killed a woman." He paled and Jim quickly handed him the waste bin.

Caleb quickly emptied the contents of his stomach- whether it was the vision or the concussion he wasn't sure, _probably a bit of both…_

"Could you tell when?"

"No, but it wasn't far from here – near the woods."

"I'll report a sighting to the police. Was it a normal bear?"

"I couldn't tell - it was frothing at the mouth so it could be mad or rabid…" Or possessed. He didn't have to say it.

He tried to stand up but began to sway. "You sit yourself down for a while. Sam and Dean can scout the area and I'll see if there have been any reports of animal attacks." _or missing persons_… Jim didn't need to say it either.

Several hours later, they had had no joy. There had been no signs of a large animal in any of the woodland near the church, no sightings, no missing persons reports, nothing. Animal control had told them they would keep an eye out; however it was unusual for bears to venture this close to a populated area.

They had a few hours before they would scout again. According to Caleb's vision, the attack had happened fairly late at night so they would reconnoitre the area again later, though Jim insisted that Caleb didn't go with them tonight, as he was still unsteady on his feet.

They had a quiet afternoon playing chess, with Sam and Dean checking and cleaning their weapons, readying themselves for the night's hunt. Although Caleb's visions were like Sam's in that they were generally supernatural related, his were not limited to the Demon, and he had on occasion even had non-supernatural premonitions.

Caleb's mind was still a little foggy and Jim could have easily beaten him any number of times during the afternoon. Jim was actually becoming a little concerned at his friend's distractedness. Perhaps he should have taken him to the hospital after all.

Caleb, meanwhile, was fuzzily trying to recall the events earlier in the day – he could remember getting thrown down the stairs, but everything after that with the sole exception of his vision was blurred and vague.

Had he been his usual alert self, that itself would have been a warning.

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Dean watched his brother fall. It seemed to take a lifetime, but at the same time happened in a heartbeat.

He couldn't understand it. They had been on their way back after a rather fruitless scout- still no signs of either supernatural or oversized bear activity. One moment Sam had been laughing. Dean had smacked him in the face with a snowball and Sam had bent to make one of his own. The next moment Jim's church bells had struck the half hour and Sam had whipped around to look at the church clock in silent accusation. '11:30' He whispered…

It was Christmas Eve…

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Sam cried out as a stabbing, slashing pain tore across his chest and he automatically clutched at his chest with one arm. _How has this week passed so quickly? I'm not ready. _He looked across at Dean who had turned to him at his cry, his face concerned. Obviously, what little Dean could see in his posture did not relieve his anxiety as he took a step towards Sam._ I need to get away from Dean – he can't see this._

Whirling, Sam fled his brother, a tormented cry torn unwilling from his lips.

"Sam? Sammy – what's wrong?"

Sam didn't answer. _I'm sorry Dean – I had to do it, I'm so sorry, _he thought to himself. He ran as if his life depended on it, though he knew that was no longer the case. He was fleeing from his brother _towards_ death.

He heard his brother calling from behind him but he knew he couldn't let him see. If Sam died without some sort of accident, Dean would know that it was something supernatural and if he suspected that, then he may figure out the truth. His brother was not stupid by any stretch of the imagination and excelled at spotting links others would normally miss. He couldn't leave it to chance. After what happened with the reaper and Layla, Dean had never been quite the same. He had never really come to terms that he had survived, always feeling that he had cheated Death and that in doing so had condemned an innocent in his place. Ignorance was never an excuse.

Sam understood but at the end of the day he would not, _could not_ lose his brother. It was selfish and weak, but he did not regret the deal he had made. He knew his death would hit Dean hard but he would recover. He could join up with Dad - Sam suspected that his Dad was keeping more away from him than his brother. And the other hunters of their small and unusual extended family were here, so Dean would not be alone. _It's better this way, safer for Dean…_Sam justified to himself.

It was Sam that seemed to attract the Demon's attention. With him dead, he reasoned, there would be no need for the Demon to hunt his family. He had been responsible for so much loss: his mother and Jess's death, the loss of Dean's childhood and his chance of a normal life; the end of his father's happiness, the list just kept growing longer. And he would be damned if he would let his brother be added to it.

He smiled grimly as he ran. H**_e was damned anyway._**

At least this way he could atone. His bargain ensured Dean stayed alive, his soul guaranteeing his protection for a time to come. John would have his devoted son, his loyal hunter. Sam knew his father loved him, but he also knew that Dean was John's favourite.

Dean was a strong, skilled hunter, obedient and talented and he and John shared this bond, as well as their joint loss of Mary's death. He had never known his mother and sometimes felt more like a stranger looking in on his family as he and John had for years kept each other at arms length, their constant head-butting chipping away at the foundation of their relationship. Without Dean, they were unable to gain purchase, to find common ground as each pulled in the opposite direction from the other, and in doing so pulling their fractured family apart.

John ultimately blamed Sam for his mother's death, in Sam's mind. That was why he'd told him to leave and not come back, why he hadn't come when Dean when they were in Lawrence or Omaha. Because John blamed him. Dean didn't, though, and for that Sam was eternally grateful. But the telling silence in his and John's conversation in Salvation told the truth. Sam had declared he was the cause; the reason behind Mary and Jess's death. Dean had immediately refuted it, whereas John had said nothing.

So Dean and John continued to hunt with Sam with them as a liability. _Not anymore_.

Sam had deliberately picked this spot. It would be hard to find and was out of the way- close enough to the woods for his death to be believable as a bear attack. The weather had been exceptionally cold for this time of year, the winter had started early, and it was cold enough for bears to be venturing nearer the towns in their search of food. And Laurel had promised to provide the cover in case his demise was witnessed – after all he might as well get the most out of the bargain and use all of her talents; shaping reality, as Dean had discovered, was something at which a Reaper excelled.

Another tearing pain zigzagged across his chest and this time he felt a damp warmth soaking through his jacket.

Soon, he thought… 

Just ahead he saw the slim silhouette of a woman. Movement to her right revealed another person, a man walking in the opposite direction.

Damn- just when I thought I was clear… 

"Sam"She spoke softly and turned her brilliant eyes bright with unshed tears. _Why was she crying?_

"Are you ready?" She asked sadly. _No, I'm only 23 years old; of course I'm not fucking ready!_

"He's safe? You'll watch over my brother?" _Dean, I'm scared…_

"I will keep my part of the bargain." _I'm sorry Dean, please forgive me…_

"Then yes, I'm ready"_ Love you big brother…_

A cry escaped him then as the pain spiralled, stealing away his breath, sweeping away any illusion he had that he could handle this alone. The physical pain was agonising but nothing close to the wrenching burn as his soul was torn away from him, his spirit scoured and severed from his dying shell of a body.

The scream that was unwilling ripped from him echoed through the night air, seeking out the one it would hurt most.

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Dean staggered as he heard his brother scream – the agony and anguish within it almost stopped his heart then and there. A cold emptiness spread through his stomach and an aching sense of loss unfurled in his chest. He knew even as his brother came in to sight, that he was too late.

Caleb flinched and erupted from his doze in front of the fire in Pastor Jim's study.

"Sam!"

"Caleb? What's wrong?" Jim looked shocked at the younger man's obvious terror.

"Shit, its Sam- we need to get outside – now."

Caleb staggered to his feet.

"Don't you fucking dare do this brat, or I swear I will drag you back myself" He growled.

"Don't you dare die on us now Sammy…" He whispered…

They came out the door in time to hear Sam's pain-filled cry.

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Dean could see the outline of a great lumbering beast crashing down from its hind legs in front of his brother, before shambling away - _the bear _-and a big one at that, said the small part of his mind, the pure hunter that was the only part of him existing right now. The part that was the brother was mesmerised by the sight of his sibling. The world around him was silent, invisible; the only thing he could focus on was his brother. Faltering and unsteady, Sam arched and twisted in pain, and then slowly began to topple. His brother was falling….

"Sam!" He screamed as the world once again came rushing back to him and he somehow found a burst of speed, the adrenaline pushing him past the limits his exhausted and terrified body was trying to enforce. He blanched as he somehow managed to catch his brother and they went down in the slippery snow in a tangle of legs and arms, Sam's torso slick and warm with blood.

Dean gently and quickly disentangled himself and turned his brother onto his back. His eyes widened in horror as he took in his brother's ravaged chest, his face normally so full of warmth and life, now grey, expressionless, his lips already turning blue. Sam's bright intelligent gaze had vanished. The deep, expressive intensity now hidden behind the glaze of death. Dean was too late.

Dean could faintly hear a sound in the distance - a pitiful keening noise, _no, no, no,_ repeating over and over - and realised it was coming from him. He gathered his brother to him, resting Sam's head against him as he brushed the unruly bangs back from Sam's face, and gently pressed his cheek against Sam's forehead. "Sammy, no, please. Don't you do this. Don't leave me Sam"

Dean's world was crashing around him. How could this have happened? Why had Sam run off like that? After all they had been through, all the evil they had encountered and defeated and his brother was killed by an animal? No, he wouldn't accept it, he couldn't be dead. "Come on Sam, you can't go down like this…if you die it should be the fucking end of the world,"**_ it sure as hell is the end of mine_** "not some pointless bear attack. Dammit, Sam you come back this instant, you hear me?" Tears spilled from Dean's eyes, there was no need to be strong anymore - his baby brother was gone.

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Caleb and Father Jim paused a few feet from the brothers, held in place by the sheer devastation emanating from the elder brother. Caleb deliberating closed down his mind lest he by swept away under the torrent of grief, anger and hopelessness surging in waves from the bereft hunter. They stood in almost reverent silence as they watched Dean cradling his brother to him, cajoling, begging his Sam to come back to him. Even from this distance, though, it was clear that the injuries were just too severe. _Poor kid was probably dead before he hit the ground_.

They stood bearing witness to the tragedy unfolding before them, the unimaginable had happened. The Winchesters had lost their baby boy. Sam was dead.

**-TBC**

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**A/N**

Um…heck….um…ducks as rotten veg heads my way

Okay, before I am lynched – do you really think Dean would accept that Sam is dead?

And I'm a Sammy girl…so do you really think _I_ would accept it lol! Unless I am really evil…rubs hands…

So….please let me know what you think…runs and hides…

Don't worry- I'll think of something…_I hope_….

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	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note**

Apologies for the delay in posting this – I found this an exceptionally difficult chapter to write and if I'm honest I'm still not happy with it, but it's the best I can do so please forgive me. It's a little depressing but then again, I did just kill Sam. Dean was never going to be a happy bunny.

So Kaly, hope you are still enjoying this, and again the Caleb here is a poor imitation of Ridley C James' wonderful creation.

Special thanks to Geminigirl for her patience with me and for being a marvellous beta, and to Catbeist and Sifi for giving me the courage to post. Thank you to everyone that has posted a review – seriously you guys are amazing, and give me the heart to keep going when I'm finding it difficult to believe that I can.

**Summary**

One brother makes a bargain that may ultimately cost the Winchesters more than they are willing to pay. This will be slightly AU as will eventually include John, Caleb and Pastor Jim.

**Disclaimer**

Due to the restraining order, apparently I keep trying to kill Sam off, I'm not allowed to own them, go figure… So, nope don't own anything Supernatural related, still poor too dammit.

**Warnings **

Um, this is a wee bit sad… and their language hasn't improved any either…

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**Chapter 6**

Dean didn't know how long he had been sitting clutching his brother's broken body to him. Long enough for the tears to have dried half-frozen to his face, for his legs to become numb from the bloodied snow he was kneeling in. He was well past noticing the passage of time. His brother's blood had soaked into his clothes, which were stiffening in the icy wind that had risen since his brother had fallen. The blood on his hands had dried into a crimson skin, a physical corroboration of his failure.

He no longer sat rocking his younger sibling; he simply held him tight against his chest, breathing in the last moments of his brother's life. The lower half of his face was buried in Sam's hair, his eyes gazing blindly at the world around him.

He did not feel the frozen snow soaking him, nor the wind biting through his already drenched clothes. He no longer tasted the bitter salt of his tears, or the crisp tang of snow in the air. He did not hear the sounds of Caleb and Jim approaching or the small intermittent whimpers that he still made. He could not see the snowy scene around him or the figures of his friends approaching.

His senses were overloaded, overridden by the awareness of what was missing.

His brother's bright dimpled smile was now forever lost to him – he would no longer see that earnest puppy expression, his brother's lanky form would no longer sit comfortably next to him in their journey.

He would no longer hear his brother's voice, the soft and gentle tones, the fierce conviction, his contagious laugh. He would never again hear his brother breathing reassuring him that he was not alone in this nightmare. Even the bitching and nightmares were lost to him.

He could no longer feel his brother's strong and fearless heart beating, the heart that fought so fiercely to protect those around him, that was so passionate in his beliefs and that loved with all he had. He would no longer feel the warmth that was his brother stand by him through adversity, sorrow or joy.

He was no longer responsible for the tiny life that had been his for the past twenty three years. The baby he had raised to a giggling, mischievous toddler, who had grown into a loving, hero-worshipping and equal handful of a child. The child who in turn had grown to be an intelligent, rebellious and strong-willed teenager, and had further grown into the bright, moody, strong yet gentle man who fought courageously beside him.

He was no longer a brother. And that was injury to his soul. His brother had bled out in front of him, and in dying had taken the last of his hope with him.

He felt something tugging at his arms and silently resisted. He could not hear the voices of his friends begging and pleading for him to let go of Sam.

How could he? He had been holding onto his brother all of his life – he was supposed to let go now, just because he had _died? _If they thought that then they did not know the two brothers half as well as they thought.

Another tug and this time Dean's lips curled into a vicious snarl as an inhuman growl came from the back of his throat.

"Dean." Caleb's voice, sounding foreign in its gentleness, echoed softly in his mind.

"Let him go, Dean."

_Never. "Go away." _

"No."

"Leave us alone!"

"I won't do that, Deuce. C'mon, let's get Sam in from the cold, eh?" Again, gentle hands tried to take his Sammy away.

"I'll do it." Dean's voice a cracked whisper; a mere echo of his former confidence.

Jim and Caleb took no reassurance from hearing it- it was the voice of a dying man. They could see it in the empty, haunted expression, his eyes dead and lifeless as if already focussing on somewhere else. He was already detaching himself from the real world.

The elder brother slowly stood, his movements more like that of an old man, stiff and sluggish. However, his movements smoothed out as he gently lifted his brother's still form from the ground and cradled him close, carefully carried him back to Jim's house.

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The two older hunters watched Dean carry his brother slowly towards the house.

Jim cast a concerned look at Caleb, "What happened, Cal? What did you see?"

"That's the problem Jim, I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I know what I saw. I'm just not sure I believe it. It was a bear attack Jim, only this time it took out Sam." Caleb paused and waved his arms. "Look around Jim, do you see any prints, any sign of what attacked Sam?"

Jim looked down. With the exception of their own tracks and the churned ground where Sam had lain, there was nothing.

"Cal, did you see a woman just as we got here?"

"Just a glimpse of her running away, why?"

Jim looked to where the woman had stood before fleeing, but again, there were no tracks.

"She was there." He pointed to a spot not far from where they stood. "There are no prints there either."

"What the hell is going on? How could we lose Sammy, Jim?" Caleb's voice was shaking. The reality of the situation finally sinking in. Jim simply shook his head, his own sorrow causing his eyes to mist over.

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Dean laid his brother down on the large kitchen table, gently brushing the hair from Sam's sightless eyes.

"What did you go and do something like this for, Sam? You broke our deal – we were supposed to live forever, remember?" _If you do ever leave, promise to take me with you? _Sam's 11 year old voice seemed to filter through the fog.

Dean fingered his gun, the prospect of ending it all suddenly tempting. He had grown accustomed to having his brother back with him; it had made him feel complete again, and his soul warmed once more by his brother's presence.

He straightened out his brother's long limbs, Sam's body now cool to the touch. This wasn't his Sammy, it couldn't be. His Sam was never cold, never so still. Even sitting next to him in the Impala, Dean could feel the heat that constantly seemed to radiate from his brother. But the familiar connection was still there, only faint. He knew that this was no shape shifter, no impostor or demon, or trick of the mind. There was no spell or enchantment masking reality; it was Sam Winchester who lay dead before him.

"What am I supposed to do now?" He whispered. All of his life, his first thought had been to watch over his brother – even before the demon had stolen their mother from them; it had always been Sammy first and foremost to Dean. Now he just felt lost, it just didn't feel right that his brother was the first to go, but at the same time it seemed inevitable. It seemed like the whole world was hell bent on taking out the youngest Winchester one way or another.

"You cheated Sam – it's supposed to be your belligerent and bad ass brother who goes first. I'm the oldest, remember? I'm supposed to go ahead, scout the terrain, and make sure it's safe for you to follow. You should know the drill by now, bro."

Another wave of devastation swept over him, a desolate loneliness, a need to be whole again.

He lifted his gun once more to beneath his chin, and then hesitated. No, there was a chance he could miss. _I've screwed up so much already, and I have to at least do this right._

He opened his mouth and placed the barrel of the gun to the roof of it. His finger slowly tightening on the trigger.

"Fuck!" Caleb swore from outside. "Dean - don't!" He sent the thought out desperately. _Don't make this disaster a catastrophe. Don't turn this nightmare into a bloodbath._ His legs pumped forward, desperately trying to get to the house before the elder brother could fulfil his intentions. He wouldn't make it, he could feel Dean's finger tightening on the trigger.

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"_**Let me go to him Nick, I promise I'll return. Please, he needs me."**_

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Caleb could sense another presence, a familiar, bright, dazzling intensity – _Sam._

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A warm hand wrapped around the one in which Dean was holding the gun, gently pulling his finger from the trigger and moving the gun from his mouth.

"Don't."

Eyes Dean hadn't felt close snapped open at the sound of a voice he so desperately craved to hear.

"Sam?" The voice of a child, tiny and vulnerable.

"Please, Dean, don't."

Sam was kneeling in front of him and Dean automatically reached out to clasp his brother's arm to reassure him that he was really there – but his hand passed through the apparition in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Dean, I never wanted to leave you again." Sam spoke softly.

"Then don't."

"I had no choice Dean."

"Why did you run off, Sam?"

"The bear was going to attack that woman."

"You should have waited for me." _You should always wait for me._ "You know better than to run off alone." _To leave me alone._ "Dammit Sam, you never go without backup!" _You should never go, period._

"I'm sorry, Dean – I made a mistake."

"Yeah, one **_I_** have to live with." Dean frowned as a thought occurred to him. "And I thought that all your visions were to do with the Demon – that bastard was behind this wasn't he?" A cold fury began to replace the emptiness within.

"No, Dean, it was just a bear."

"Just a bear wouldn't have killed you." Dean was clutching at straws – if it was supernatural, there was a chance he could change it.

"This one did. These things happen."

_Not to the Winchesters…no fucking way…_

"I can't do this, Sammy." It was a broken whisper, a terrified admission, a weakness he had known but never fully realised.

"Yes, you can." _You're stronger than I am bro…_

"I don't want to." _Oh god, Dean, no, I'm so sorry…_

"Dad can't lose both his sons in one day, Dean." If Sam had to use guilt to get his brother through this, then so be it. He watched in sorrow as his brother seemed to sag under the weight of yet another burden of responsibility.

"He probably wouldn't even notice."

"You know that's not true, dude – he would fall apart if he lost you. He'd become reckless – Dad needs reminding that there is something beyond the hunt."

"That was always your job, dude, not mine."

"Yeah, well I'm retired now." Sam smiled sadly.

"That's not funny, Sam," Dean snapped.

"I know." Sam looked uncomfortable. "I have to go soon, Dean."

His brother looked stricken – he was losing Sam all over again. "Can't you stay? Just a little longer?"

"You know I can't." Sam concentrated and gently cradled his brother's face in his hands, staring intently as if memorising something vitally important. "Look after yourself and Dad. Don't take this the wrong way, dude, but I hope not to see you for a very long time. I'll miss you."

"No, Sammy, don't." Dean reached out grasping blindly for his brother and Sam used the last of his energy to become briefly solid. He folded his elder brother into his arms and Dean buried his head into Sam's chest, began to weep in earnest.

Sam stroked his brother's back and rocked him gently until his brother's storm passed. Or at least passed for the moment. Even now, Sam couldn't delude himself into thinking this would be easy for Dean. Not this. He gently kissed the top of Dean's head like Dean used to do when he was little, "You'll be okay, Dean, I promise." Sam murmured. He felt a tugging at his soul and knew that Nick was calling him back.

"I have to go." He stepped back from his brother. "Love you, big brother," he whispered as he faded.

"Love you, kiddo." Dean whispered to the empty air. He didn't even know if Sam had heard him.

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Caleb and Jim had hovered outside of the kitchen, reluctant to intrude on the brothers. Jim was weeping openly and Caleb tried to discreetly wipe away the tears that had fallen from his own eyes.

"Someone will have to call John." Jim murmured. He looked at the devastated young man in the kitchen. "I'd best do that. You watch over Dean." The pastor quietly walked away to the phone in the hall.

The psychic entered the kitchen and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, squeezing gently, just enough to let the older brother know he was there.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, Caleb was taken aback. Gone was the bright gaze, full of life and mischief that the psychic had expected; but at the same time, there was no sign of the grief stricken young man that had been there moments ago.

Instead, Dean's eyes flashed with a cold fire, an icy fury. "When we find what did this, it's mine." He growled, his voice still rough from grief.

Caleb nodded his understanding.

"But first I need to clean up Sam – he's not staying like this."

Caleb gathered the materials Dean would need to clean and stitch up his brother, then, at Dean's request; he left the elder brother alone to his ministrations – to allow him to his last duty as big brother.

Dean carefully washed and dried his brother's corpse and sewed up the wounds as carefully as if Sam were still alive. It took some time, but eventually, he was finished. He had gathered some clean clothes in which to dress his brother when he realised something was missing -he needed a shirt. – _Sam's blue, greyhound t-shirt_, must be upstairs. A wave of weariness swept over him and he allowed his head to fall. _In a minute,_ he thought as sleep claimed him.

There was a harsh knocking at the front door and Jim hung up the phone in exasperation. _Why can John never answer his phone?_

_Go away,_ he thought less than charitably, _now is not a good time to come here._ He checked to make sure the Holy water was handy and picked up the rock salt, pouring it in an arc at the door so that the opening of the door would not disturb it.

He stood blinking owlishly at the man in front of him.

John Winchester stood with his head tucked down into his coat to avoid the bitter wind. He glared at the priest. "So are you going to invite me in anytime soon Jim, preferably _before_ I get frostbite?"

"Of course. Sorry John, long night." He opened the door. _How do I tell John? I have to say something before he sees Dean._

John automatically headed for the kitchen to get himself a hot drink, but Jim quickly stepped in front of him. "John? We need to talk."

"Can't I grab a bite to eat first? I've been on the road ten hours straight."

"Believe me John, this can't wait."

John turned a concerned face on Jim. His friend was visibly distraught, his eyes red rimmed and his hands shaking. _Oh god, we've lost one of our own…_

"So, don't mean to sound rude John, but what brings you here?" Jim desperately tried to fill the silence as they headed for his study.

"Sammy left a message, said he had a lead on the Demon and that I needed to be here – Though knowing Sammy he was trying to get me here for Christmas. He never gives up - the kid's a sentimentalist." _Just like Mary._ "So, are my boys here yet? Sammy left the message a couple of days ago saying they were heading here."

They had reached the study. "I think you had best sit down, John."

John felt the first tendrils of fear twist in his gut. "What's wrong?"

The Pastor opened his mouth to speak, but for once words failed him. For a man who provided solace and comfort on a daily basis, he could find no words to tell John about his son.

"Has something happened to Cal or Joshua?" Part of John's question was answered when Caleb entered the room.

"John." Caleb nodded and John could see pain and sorrow in the psychic's eyes.

"No, John."

"Missouri?" Jim mutely shook his head and John's hands began to tremble. He looked between the two men in front of him and the trembling spread until he felt his entire body would be taken in palsy. His heart knew before his mind did – thudding hard in his chest, frozen to its core with fear.

"Not my boys." _Please_.

His frozen heart shattered at Jim's "I'm so sorry John. It's Sammy."

"What happened? Is he hurt? God, tell me he's not possessed!"

Jim's eyes fell; this was the hardest thing he had ever had to do.

"He's dead, John."

_No, not his and Mary's baby boy._

"But I just had a voicemail from him." John's voice almost plaintive. "Where is he?"

"In the kitchen."

_What the hell was Sam doing in the kitchen_?

"And Dean?" _Oh god, tell me I haven't lost both of them._

"He's cleaning Sam up." Caleb spoke.

John sank into the chair, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I don't understand. What happened?" He asked again.

"We think it was a bear attack, John."

_An animal had took away his boy? No_._ There was no way that something that normal that innocuous had killed his son. Wouldn't that be the ultimate irony – that the only normalcy his son experienced was his death? _"It was the Demon, wasn't it?" Bitterness laced his words, mixing with a terrible anger.

"We don't know exactly what went down, John."

_Apart from his Sammy. _John thought_. Dean, oh god Dean. _He knew this could destroy his eldest son in a way nothing else could.

John rose abruptly. "I need to see them."

"I'll come with you," Caleb muttered. Jim had folded into his chair – having to deliver such news to his old friend had taken its toll.

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Pastor Jim sat silently watching the fire.

Even to the small band of fellow hunters that John had entrusted with his family, Sam and Dean was special. The brothers had been basically adopted as sons by the group of hunters, who had occasionally when he was working nearby help raise the two young men.

They each recognised that Sam was the heart of the Winchester family. John may have been the driving force behind it, and Dean's loyalty and devotion held it together. But Sam was its centre. With his loss, their last link to Mary and to the life they had before the demon had taken it from them. John and Dean were teetering over a chasm of wrath and revenge, and could fall entirely out of the light into darkness

The youngest son had always been the one to bring light into their broken family, the one to remind them of the world outside of the hunt. Despite everything he had lived through – even Jessica - he had managed to retain his innocence and belief in the good in the world and his compassion and gentleness had helped ground the family and prevent it from becoming totally consumed by the hunt.

And all who knew them knew that it was all due to Dean. Dean had been the one who had raised Sam into the man he was today. But now that Dean's guiding light was extinguished, they feared that Dean's own light would soon follow. They had lost one of their boys; they refused to lose the other.

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As Dean slept he heard a woman's voice, soft and comforting. It was familiar and made him feel a peace he had not felt since he was four.

"Dean"

"Mom?" A gentle caress brushed his cheek.

"Shh baby, everything will be alright."

"Sammy's dead, Mom, I'm sorry, I should have looked after him better."

"You have always been the perfect brother to Sam, Dean."

"But I messed up and now he's gone. Is he there with you?" Dean asked hopefully.

"He's not here with us Dean, we don't know where he is; only that he is in pain and in great danger."

"Sammy? But how? He's dead!"

"You have to hurry Dean. He's lost and frightened. He's growing weaker."

"What do I need to do?"

"Open your eyes. See the truth."

"What? I don't understand! See what?"

"You have looked, but you haven't seen. Open your eyes."

Dean felt a presence in the room, "You have to wake up Dean, Remember, my son, that I love you so much and miss you, and that I am so_ very_ _proud_ of you."

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John followed Caleb from the room. All the way to the kitchen fighting the urge to turn and run. _If he didn't see it, it wasn't real, right?_

Dean looked to be asleep; his head on Sam's chest, one hand curled around one of his brother's. Tears threatened to fall from Caleb's eyes as he took in the scene. He knew the entire Winchester family could implode with the weight of this - one loss too many.

John entered the room like a dead man walking. "Sammy, no, oh my baby boy, no." He reached out a hand to stroke his son's cheek when Dean all but erupted from Sam's side, teeth bared and knife drawn.

"Stay away from him!"

"Dean, son, it's me."

The change in Dean was instantaneous.

"Dad? You're really here?" Dean's voice a mix of dread and need.

"Yes son, I'm here."

"Dad, I'm sorry, I lost him. I was meant to protect him, but I lost him." Dean babbled.

John pulled his eldest into a tight bear hug and Dean fisted his hands in his jacket like he was holding onto a lifeline. He was shaking badly and John reflexively soothed him, slipping back into a role he had long abandoned. "Hush, son. It wasn't your fault, Dean. There was no way that this was your fault." He rested his head on top of Dean's and he felt his own control slipping.

"Sammy's dead, Dad." _Fix it; I need you to fix this._ John could feel the unsaid words beneath those spoken. _What am I supposed to do now, Mary? Go after what ever took our boy, continue to hunt and perhaps lose Dean, or try to at least protect our one remaining son?_

He felt Dean stiffen, looking over at his brother, over his father's shoulder.

"_**Open your eyes. See the truth. You have looked, but you haven't seen. Open your eyes." **_

**_Mom. _**Dean heard her words echoing in his head. Looking at his brother – really _looking _this time – the words started to make sense. How had he not noticed earlier?

"Dad? Look at Sam's injuries."

John swallowed hard before looking at Sam's chest. Even stitched, it was a gruesome reminder of how his far-too-young son had died.

Dean tugged at his own clothes until he was standing bare-chested.

John's mouth tightened as he looked up from Sam to Dean, and Caleb looked confused for a moment before realisation sunk in. _Shit._

The wounds on both brothers were identical. As if the realisation had somehow kick-started his memory, the psychic suddenly recalled the incident in the cellar.

Caleb reached across and tugged Sam over and sure enough there was a hole in Sam's shoulder that matched what would have been there had the rod pierced flesh and bone- it went all the way through.

"Dean- this wound."

"What about it?"

Caleb filled him in on what he had seen in the cellar.

Dean paled as with dawning horror he began to understand a little of what had happened.

"_You'll be okay, Dean, I promise."_ Sam's earlier words seemed to haunt him. His brother never made a promise he couldn't keep. Dean turned from his brother and fell to his knees trembling violently. He felt his father's hand grasp his shoulder.

"What is it, Dean?" His father's voice, still authoritative and demanding, despite his sorrow.

"The stupid son of a bitch." Dean whispered. "He did a trade. The foolish, selfish bastard."

Caleb knelt in front of Dean forcing him to raise his eyes. "I should have died, Cal." Dean whispered.

The psychic suddenly understood the imbalance in both brothers' energies. "I think you did, Deuce." Both elder and younger hunters' heads whipped to look at him. Sadness softened the elder hunter's eyes as he realised the love that had drove one brother to sacrifice himself for the other, and Dean silently nodded his agreement. He could feel the truth of it in the pit of his stomach.

_If it's supernatural, we can change this._ Dean refused to consider the alternative. He turned determined eyes to the others, and could see his resolve mirrored in his father's and Caleb's faces.

"We're getting Sammy back."

TBC

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**A/N**

So…was this ok? Hope you liked it! The next chapter is written so will be able to update it fairly quickly.

Hoping I haven't depressed you all too much. Needless to say, Dean is not going to give up on Sam…

Please, please, please read and review – this chapter had me in knots and I would seriously appreciate your opinions….Thanks for reading!

Dream

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20


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note**

For Kaly.

Sorry for the delay in posting. Have had a bit of a domestic drama with my other half going into hospital, and then my laptop decided to lose half of Chapter 7 as I was posting it on Sunday on Fanfic. So I had to write it again…edited- then it refused to let me update at all...

Thanks as always to Geminigirl, for being such a wonderful Beta and to Catbeist and Sifi for reading and encouraging me to keep going, and making some much appreciated suggestions. Thank you so much to everyone who has read my story so far, especially all of you who have taken the time to review. The response to the last chapter was wonderful – hoping I don't fall down on this one now lol! Oh and Geminigirl has not beta's all of this chapter so any mistakes will most definitely be mine!

Special mention to Mariazinha, for her nagging, um I mean encouragement! Only kidding, it means a great deal that someone is wanting me to continue – thanks for your kind words, it means a great deal to me.

**Summary**

One brother makes a bargain that may ultimately cost the Winchesters more than they are willing to pay. This will be slightly AU as will eventually include John, Caleb and Pastor Jim.

**Disclaimer**

Peers behind the sofa – nope no 6 ft 4 hulking gorgeousness there…damn. So, nope, I own nothing supernatural, don't rub saly in the wound by suing…please?

**Warnings **

Sam's joining in now with the bad language – shakes head in disgust.

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**Chapter 7**

"There is only one thing that I know of with the power to do this." Caleb started.

"A Reaper," Dean muttered viciously – he hated the bastards – they had already caused him to be responsible for too much death.

"A Reaper." Caleb confirmed.

Dean strode from the kitchen and hurried to his and Sam's room. He faltered in the doorway when he caught sight of Sam's bag and scattered clothes – a not-so-gentle reminder of what was missing. _Missing, not gone_. He still refused to accept he had lost his brother.

He went to Sam's bag and rummaged through it. Sam would have kept it – he had no doubt. What- his geek boy kid brother leave a _book_ behind? He snorted harshly. His fingers closed around the small black book the preacher's wife had used to call and bind the Reaper.

He quickly returned to the kitchen and silently handed the book to Caleb. His father looked at him oddly but understood that the spiritual aspect was more the psychic's area of expertise. Caleb flicked through and smiled a grim smile of satisfaction.

"We can use this," he tapped one of the pages, "– this one here."

"Won't we need an amulet for this?" John queried.

Caleb smirked. "In the right hands, any talisman will work. Give me your necklace Dean." He held his hand out expectantly.

"Sam gave me this when we were little." Dean stated, hesitating not because of what Caleb wanted it for, but because of how he wanted Caleb to treat it. The unspoken words of "don't damage it", clear.

"I know." The older man kept his gaze firmly on Dean. The elder brother loosened the pendant and handed it to the psychic.

Caleb reamed off a list of ingredients, "We'd best not do this here." He muttered.

"Why not?"

John answered. "Because we are about to build ourselves a dark altar and I doubt Jim would approve of us doing that here." _If at all_… Jim was a fearsome hunter in his own right, and loved Sam like a son, but he would never knowingly embroil himself in an act that went against God – even for the best of causes.

"Besides, it would be more powerful if the altar is sited at the scene of the," Caleb faltered, trying to choose words that would not hurt his family further – "transference." He winced at the cold term.

Dean flinched at the word and John's lips thinned but they remained silent. They quickly gathered the materials together and went to where Sam had fallen.

Even in the darkness, they could clearly see the blood in the snow. Ever the hunter, John's eyes flicked around the area, building a picture of what had happened, and his stomach twisted further. There was just so much blood here.

Dean determinedly refused to look at the ground and kept watch as Caleb drew the summoning symbols in Sam's blood.

Dean read the incantation from the book, this time John keeping guard while the two younger men worked – alert for any signs of danger.

After a moment a shimmering mist swirled above the snow and slowly formed into the woman that Caleb realised had been here earlier.

The very same woman from Caleb's earlier vision.

"You bitch." He snarled, starting forward. John thrust an arm over the psychic's chest, keeping the angry man from crossing the symbols.

"What?" Dean asked sharply.

"She is the woman I saw in my vision of the bear attack. It was a set up, wasn't it?"

"Not a set up, a cover story." The woman announced calmly.

"A what, now?"

"I'm guessing that in summoning me you have realised the arrangement made?"

"I died, didn't I?" Dean asked bluntly.

"Yes."

"And Sam made a deal."

"Yes." _Christ, was this chick going to just give monosyllabic answers all night? _

"My brother's life for mine." Dean growled out.

"Not exactly."

"Then what exactly!"

"His life to resurrect you."

Somehow Dean knew there was more. "And?"

"His soul to protect you."

"What?" Dean's voice lowered in horror. It was bad enough Sam had died for him, _but he had sold his soul as well?_

"Undo it." Dean commanded.

"That's not possible."

"Then do the same deal with me." Dean snarled.

"No, Dean." His father snapped. But his eldest ignored him.

"I can't." The Reaper spoke quietly.

"Why not?"

"Sam made it part of the bargain."

_Huh, trust Sam to add clauses to his bargains_. Dean could almost feel proud that his brother had thought so clearly, _but dammit Sam, give me some wriggle room, something to work with…_ "Then break it."

"I can't – it's a binding agreement"

"So sue me!"

"It would kill you both Dean – I am so sorry."

For a moment, for one wild desperate moment, Dean wanted to tell her to do it. What did he care if he died, at least he would be with his brother.

John took advantage of his son's momentary silence. "Did my son summon you?" For some reason it was important he know.

"No, I approached him."

"Why?" John demanded.

"That is not important."

"Like hell, it's not important, lady. I asked you why?"

"Because I was instructed to."

"By whom?" Caleb joined the questioning. Dean tensed, the odd feeling in his stomach intensifying.

"Nicholas Howard."

Dean and Caleb both looked sucker punched, John asked confused, _who?_

"We'll tell you later, John." Caleb felt sick, he and Dean had drank with the bastard, had a laugh, had let their guards down and all that time the son of a bitch had been planning this?

"Why does he want Sam?"

"He has a brother of his own he is trying to save."

"And what's that got to do with us?"

Laurel looked Caleb with a strange expression, "He is half-demon."

"So what are we, Demon catnip?"

"His father, Deuce." Caleb choked out with realisation; this had suddenly become a hell of a lot worse.

"What?" Dean turned a bemused face to his friend, and then paled…_no, it can't be…_

"The Demon that killed your mother, and hounded your family, is Nick's father."

_Oh god. _Nausea assaulted the elder hunter.

"Get him back, now!"

Laurel hesitated looking at Dean. "Even if I wanted to Dean, I couldn't." Laurel hesitated, knowing the fiery response her confession would provoke.

"What do you mean?"

"His soul is no longer in Nick's keeping, nor is it in limbo." His mother's words echoed…_He's not here with us…_

"He's passed on?" _Oh God, please don't say I'm too late…_

"No, if he had I would still be able to retrieve his spirit."

"Then where is he?"

"I'm sorry Dean but…"

The hairs on the back of the elder hunter's neck rose. "Tell me…"

"Your demon has him."

_**No…**_

_Your demon has him_…The Reaper's words reverberated around John's mind causing his heart to clench in fear and sorrow and his stomach to feel as though hot lead had settled there. The fate they had fought against for so long had finally claimed his youngest son. _I'm sorry, Mary_

Dean's staggered back as if struck and would have fallen if not for the fast reflexes and strong grip of Caleb Reaves. The older brother's face had drained of all colour, his eyes going wide and defenceless then darkening, his features pinched and drawn. He felt as though his world had fallen away from him, yet somehow he could still feel the ground shaking beneath his feet.

There was a buzzing in the hunter's ears; the only thing he could hear was the sound of his own guilt tormenting him. _The demon has Sam, oh god, the Demon has my baby brother. _

The Reaper's form flickered slightly, drawing the other men's eyes to her.

"John – the summoning charm is fading- either we bind her or we let her go." Caleb murmured quietly, his eyes returning to the stricken younger man. The men knew that if they bound the Reaper they would be crossing a line from which there would be no returning – a step they were not quite willing to take- not yet.

John hesitated, the quietly growled, "Let her go."

The Reaper's eyes had not left Dean since she had made the devastating admission. The anguish and horror crashing in waves from the brother threatened to drown her and she took a faltering step forward.

"Dean" She spoke softly, carefully, pitching her voice so as not to startle the young man. His face was so still, however his body was poised and trembling, like a horse ready to bolt. "Sam loves you so very much, Dean." She offered, knowing it was scant consolation to the bereft brother in front of her. _Damn Nick, damn him to hell for making me do this._

Dean's eyes had snapped up to her, focusing for the first time and his mouth tightened impossibly further. His eyes had now darkened from their normal bright, mossy green to the murky grey-green of a stormy sea, mirroring the tempest of emotion being tightly held within, threatening to overwhelm him.

"You must not lose hope. You must have faith in yourself and in your brother. You need to believe in the bond you share, Dean Winchester." The Reaper spoke urgently now, she needed the older brother to hold on, to not give in to the swirling darkness that was trying to capture his soul. She was forbidden to reveal certain things to the hunters; however she refused to lose another charge. She could feel Nick calling for her return. "This is not the end." She spoke as she faded.

"It is for me if I fail again," Dean whispered, too softly for the other hunters to hear. He spoke louder. "We need to find the demon, and fast." His voice becoming stronger in his determination and John looked a little shocked at his son taking control.

"First we retrieve Sam's soul, and then we are going to find a way to bring him back. Dad, you know what signs we're looking for, you see if you track down the whereabouts of the demon. Caleb, you and I are going to have a chat with Nicholas Howard." And if Nick decides not to share? - All the better. Dean was in the mood to beat the truth out of that rat-bastard son-of-a-demon, to pound into him into a bloody mess until he begged for his father- and then he would happily send him to him. _Once_ he had his brother back.

His voice brooked no argument. "I don't care what we have to do, we're getting him back." _Hold on Sammy, I'm coming, just hold on a little longer_. He turned on his heels and stalked towards Father Jim's.

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Laurel was distraught when she re-appeared at the apartment, the sight of Dean, so broken, still haunting her.

"Nick, you know what you're doing is wrong." Laurel pleaded, "You're hurting him."

"I have no options left, Laurel! Did you tell them what I told you to say?"

"Yes, but do you know how much pain you have just inflicted on that family? You know you can't do this. Why else have you not handed the amulet to your father?"

"It's leverage."

"Sam is a person, not an 'it'."

"I don't care – I need him."

"He'll never give you your brother back; you do know that, don't you? Mark's your hostage. It's how your father works – look at the Winchesters if you don't believe me."

"What do you mean?"

"Your father killed their mother which tore the family apart. It turned their father into a vengeance-obsessed hunter and Dean ended up raising his brother. He made it so that Sam and Dean are totally dependant on each other; they are the only constant in each other's lives. He allowed them to become hunters so that not only would they become strong, they would become alienated from the normal world, reinforcing their need for each other."

Laurel paused – this was the longest Nick had ever heard her speak.

"They have had no opportunity to form any real bonds with anyone outside their small circle. And for the finishing touch, it meant that they were in frequent danger, which would not only bring out Sam's abilities, but enforce their protectiveness to each other. Dean is Sam's hostage, as Sam is Dean's, the same as Mark is yours. Your father uses the love you both have for your brothers' as a means to manipulate and control."

"No." Nick knew the truth of her words but wanted, _needed_ to retain his hope. It was all he had left. He had sold everything else to the demon. "Then why did he allow Sam to go to college? He should have known that would fracture the relationship."

"Two reasons that I can see. The most obvious being that he almost destroyed Sam's self-worth and will to live when he killed Jessica Moore. The second – Sam had his taste of normalcy – he had life and hope in his life ahead of him. Only for it to be destroyed by the very demon that tore his family apart. It is far harder to lose paradise than to have never known it. Not to mention to add to Sam's guilt – he wants to turn him. Besides, Sam was always returning to Dean, your father knew he could only run for so long."

Laurel walked to where Nick sat, his head bowed.

"He will never keep his side of the bargain – the devil never does." She gently stroked his cheek. "I'm sorry."

Tears slipped down Nick's cheeks and Laurel felt the first stirrings of hope. Hope that was dashed a moment later.

"You're wrong." Nick stood and quickly walked to the cupboard on the other side of the room. He pulled out the silver bowl, grabbed a blood bag from the fridge and poured it inside.

"Father." He whispered. "I have him. I have Sam Winchester's soul."

"Don't worry - I'm on my way now. You'll have him in half an hour. Dean Winchester? Yes, I'll deal with him next."

Laurel looked at him in horror. "What have you done?"

The half–demon looked at her – then gasped as a pain shot through his chest. The amulet now glowed a fiery red and started to burn at his flesh. He could feel Sam's anger emanating from the talisman, a searing rage that had somehow cut through his own pain. Nick tugged the now scorching amulet from his neck and flung it to the floor. A silvery mist swirled from the pendant, coalescing into a familiar, tall shaggy-haired figure.

"You promised you wouldn't hurt him – that you would protect him." Sam spoke with a quiet fury.

"You shouldn't be able to do this- you can't!" Nick backed away, for the first time realising he may have underestimated the young man in front of him, feeling cold rivulets of sweat begin to trickle down his back. For the first time in a long time, he felt wary and a little fearful of a human.

Sam ignored him and turned to Laurel – "I kept my end of the bargain?"

Nick silently warned her to remain silent. "Yes." She replied defiantly. "Our pact is complete. Your life for your brother's. Your soul was a separate arrangement. And as Nick has broken the contract, you are now free of your obligations. You soul is now your own."

Sam smiled gratefully. She moved forward to whisper in Sam's ear. "I'll protect Dean as best I can."

"Thank you." Sam's form shimmered, losing cohesion

"It's time to move on Sam." She spoke softly. "I can help you."

"No!" Nick screamed. For once, Sam had to agree.

Nick moved forward when a sudden force slammed him against the wall. Sam's form began to fade, except his voice, which lowered and strengthened. "If you lay one finger on my brother, or hurt him, or cause him to be hurt in any way, I swear I'll spend the rest of _your _life making you pay. You'll spend an eternity screaming. Do you understand me?" Sam's gentle voice for once lethal and dangerous. "You've fucked with the wrong family."

Sam could give up on his dreams, give up on a normal life, give up his life and soul itself, but he would _never_ give up on his brother. It was simply something he was not capable in doing - his belief in Dean came as naturally as breathing. He knew now what he had to do. And his presence suddenly vanished.

Nick pulled himself painfully away from the wall and glared at the Reaper in betrayal. "What did you do?"

"Something I should have done a long time ago." Laurel replied coldly. ""Goodbye, Nick." She too knew now what she had to do, and turning away, she vanished.

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Dean and Caleb had went to the apartment building where they had dropped Nick off after the bar the previous night. As agreed, John remained behind with Jim, researching the Demon, to see if there were any signs nearby that could indicate where he could be with Sam. They still didn't tell Jim all that they had planned, and John felt a pang of guilt. But to him, this was the higher purpose, worth whatever price it cost.

They watched Nick talking to Laurel through the window but could not hear their words. They could see the Reaper turning away angrily, before vanishing.

Nick opened the fridge, and the two men could see even from this distance that it contained blood bags. Nick placed an ornate silver bowl on the top of the fridge.

"Blood bags?" Caleb whispered.

"Demonic mobile phones." Dean muttered, "Always knew the phone company was in league with the devil."

Caleb smirked mirthlessly back to the younger man. They waited until the half-demon left the room and headed towards the back of the house before Dean effortlessly picked the lock on the front door and they crept inside.

They quickly moved through the apartment, efficiently scanning each room as they passed until they reached the study where given the light spilling from under the door, to where they suspected Nick would be.

"You son of a bitch. Where is he?" Nick turned to see Dean standing in the doorway of the study, gun trained and watching the half demon warily.

"Dean. Caleb." He did not seem surprised. "I'm sorry it had to go down like this."

"Where is he?" Dean repeated - his voice dangerously soft. He did not want to tip off that they had already spoken to the Reaper, not yet.

"Who, my father? He never tells me where he is."

"Sam" Dean hissed in fury, "Where is my brother?"

"Your brother is dead, Dean." Nick spoke calmly which only infuriated the older brother more.

"Don't play games with us," Caleb entered the fray, "And don't even think of lying, I have my very own lie detector right here…" The psychic tapped at his forehead. "And you would not like what Deuce here would do to you if we catch you lying."

"You took his soul, you bastard."

"I don't have it."

"Where is he?" Dean was near breaking point, and Nick began to realise that if he played this out much longer, Dean would probably try to kill him – frankly, he was surprised he hadn't tried already.

Nick closed his eyes in feigned regret, knowing that he could mask the other psychic from sensing his true intentions. "I'm sorry Dean, but I gave the amulet holding Sam's soul to the Fire Demon, my father. It's too late."

_No, oh god, not Sammy_…Dean shuddered. It had taken his father 23 years to track down the demon, what if it took that long to find him again? _Would there be anything left of his brother to save?_

"What does he want from Sam?" Caleb asked bluntly.

"His powers have always been the attraction. You know, he really is unique amongst his kind. Plus Father's hobby, of course."

Dean slammed Nick back against the wall, the younger mans head smacking back on the hard surface.

"Don't even _think_ about joking around right now." Dean snarled.

"My father has a penchant for collecting souls; incorruptible, pure souls to be precise. Souls, who could, given time, work against and overcome him. Sam is one such soul, and even amongst these is a rarity. Almost an angel, you could say." Nick's face twisted sardonically.

Caleb looked across at the younger man. Dean's expression remained stoic and unreadable, and Caleb risked a quick scan of his friend and sensed a peculiar mixture of guilt and inexpressible relief.

Apprehensively, Caleb probed further. Dean had been terrified for his brother. He had been haunted by the fear that Sam's visions seemed to be inexplicably linked to the demon. The resultant anxiety that this could mean that Sam too was somehow linked, and could be in danger of being tainted or somehow controlled had almost broken his heart. His relief that his brother was the same pure soul he had always known him to be, threatened to undo him completely.

In addition there was now the shame that he had doubted the inherent goodness of his brother, however briefly. His father had taught him to look for patterns and possible threats, to look at defending against all scenarios, to assess for any weakness and danger that the supernatural could exploit. However the mere fact that he had considered it, even for a moment, tore into him.

**_Damn John Winchester for instilling such military logic in his sons, especially Dean._**

"How do we find the demon?" Caleb asked.

"Well luckily, he has an interest in another incorruptible. As with Sam, he has tried every which way to break him. He was nearly lost to darkness a short while ago, but was stronger than my father realised – and he had his guardian angel to watch over him. My father thought that with the loss of his angel, the other would fall, the fate of their souls already entwined, but he somehow didn't. "

Caleb couldn't help the twitch on his lips as he looked at Deuce's bemused expression. The kid still didn't realise.

"You, Dean. You're the next target." Nick continued. "What, you thought that it was only Sam the demon was after?"

Dean's expression was one of shock and disbelief. He was not pure, and he sure as hell was not untainted. He had killed, several times, and although it had been in defence of his family, his still felt it was a permanent stain upon his soul. No, Sam was the good one, not him. He just did what he had to do to keep his family safe and whole.

_Every good soul needs a little dirt in it to survive, Deuce. _Caleb commented silently in Dean's mind._ That is something you need to teach your brother. In order for us to fight what we do, sometimes we have to make difficult decisions – and to live with them. Even if doing so costs us a little piece of our soul. For if we do nothing, then the evil **will** win, and that would cost us far more than we can afford to lose._

_Stay the hell out of my mind, Reaves._

Nick continued. "It was always the pair of you. The bond the two of you share is truly powerful and he fears it, he fears what you could accomplish because of it. Between you and Sam, you could destroy him, he knows this. He wants to harness what you have, but if he can't will settle for destroying it. He has been preparing the other psychics, but he has been concentrating on the Winchester family for 23 years."

Dean and Caleb exchanged glances at the confirmation. The small circle of hunters within the extended family had long ago realised that there was a special bond between the two brothers, something unique and indefinable. They were closer than twins in many respects, each always knowing when the other was in pain, or in danger; both able to read the other as well as if they had spoken out loud. It was what made them such an incredible hunting team. It now appeared that something they always known to be extraordinary, was now of interest to the supernatural community too.

"What is happening to Sam?" In the past, Dean would have given anything to find out a little of the demon's plans, but now, he only wanted his brother returned to him safe and whole. He could worry about the plans later.

"He continues to try to break your brother."

"How?"

"He's in hell, Dean."

A punch, with the full weight of an enraged Winchester behind it, slammed the half-demon against the wall, and Dean followed through with a second, equally vicious blow to Nick's stomach. His face a mask of fury, he hit the other man again and again, until Caleb finally pulled him away.

"Dean, stop. We might need him to get Sam back."

"You're out of your mind, Reaves. I have my own brother to save."

"Maybe we could join forces, save both of them?" Caleb tried desperately.

"Your plan is a 'maybe', mines a certainty – you're a gambling man, Dean, which would you choose?"

Nick had slid along the wall towards the door as he talked; now he looked up through hooded eyes. "I think the two of you have worn out your welcome." And the half-demon gently pushed Dean and Caleb to one side with his mind and held them pinned against the wall. "I'm sorry Dean, I truly am – I liked Sam, he was a good kid." And with that Nick quickly left the apartment. Once Nick had left, the pressure holding them released.

Dean's mind was spinning, _Sammy in hell, Sammy in hell,_ the words swirling faster and faster in his mind, _oh god_ and he fell to his knees retching violently. Tight bands of grief constricted Dean's chest making it difficult for him to breath. _I don't want to go to hell, Dean_, Sam's soft, fearful words came back to him_. Shit, Sammy, you should have told me. We could've figured something out – anything but this._

Caleb crouched before the older brother – this could be the straw that literally broke the camel's back, and like fuck was he going to lose the other Winchester boy. He finally admitted just how much the two young men meant to him, they were his family, his brothers, and he refused to lose any more to the dark.

"Dean." There was no answer. He roughly grabbed Dean's chin and forced him to meet his eyes. "We'll get him out of there, Deuce. We'll not leave him there, I promise."

Dean turned haunted eyes on the older psychic and Caleb could see the guilt cutting ever deeper into the elder brother. "You didn't know, Deuce."

"That's the whole point though isn't it? He's the one person in the world I know better than anyone, and _I didn't know._ I think he almost told me. He said he didn't want to go to hell, and then he sold me some line about how he was missing Jess and worried about the demon and its plans. _And I let him_. I let him because I thought there was time. I knew that there was something wrong, something he was hiding, and I did nothing." Dean's voice was bitter, biting.

"C'mon kid, Sammy always was a stubborn son of a bitch. He would never tell you anything he didn't want to."

"I should have tried harder."

"Maybe," Caleb acknowledged. "But he still wouldn't have said a word." _Not when he was protecting you, Dean. Nothing in the world would have changed his mind._

Dean sighed – he knew the psychic was right. His brow creased thoughtfully.

"So Nick obviously has telekinesis, right?"

"He had us pinned to the wall, Deuce."

"So why did he let me hit him, why let us corner him at all?"

Caleb hesitated- his brow frowned and then his face cleared with understanding. "He's feeding us false information."

"So maybe he's lying about the Demon having Sam." Somehow Dean knew that to be true. His brother was not in that evil son of a bitch's clutches. There was still hope.

"Both Nick and the Reaper did say he was trying to save his brother from the demon." Caleb mused out loud.

"It's a trade. But not me for Sam, its Sam for Nick's brother." Dean realised out loud. There might still be time.

"So why had he not carried out the trade already?"

"Sam." A smile crossed Dean's face for the first time that day. "Sammy never could do as he was told. I don't think our boy's playing nice with the other children." He smirked. "Do you think he could have escaped the pendant?"

"Possibly." Caleb grinned.

"How on earth do we find him now?"

"Who do we know that has control over a spirit?"

Dean grinned, "I think it's time for another call to our friendly Reaper, don't you?"

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Nick was frantic. If he didn't find Sam soon, and bind him back to the pendant, he would have nothing to trade for his brother. Not to mention that Daddy Dearest would give a whole new meaning to 'there'll be hell to pay'.

"Nick." A voice whispered softly.

"Mark?" He spun around, what was he doing here?

There were two figures ahead of him, his brother and Laurel.

"What are you doing with him?" He virtually shrieked at Laurel.

"He wants to talk to you." The Reaper said gently.

"I'm going to save you, Mark." Nick spoke soothingly, his voice far more gentle when talking to his brother.

"No, big brother. This time it's my turn."

"What? You always were delusional." Nick smiled fondly through unnoticed tears.

"It wasn't your fault, Nick." His brother said firmly.

"Yes, it was. I should have picked you up that night." The guilt swept over him once more.

"You had no way of knowing."

"You're my brother; I'm _supposed_ to protect you."

"You would not have been able to." The younger brother's voice insisted sadly.

"Why not?"

"It wasn't an accident, Nick. Our doting mother and your father arranged it. I was in the way."

"What?!"

"Just as Sam's family have had their lives manipulated by the Demon, so was ours."

"No" Nick didn't want to believe it.

"It wasn't a car that killed me, it was a demon."

"Oh, God." He should have realised. _How had he been so blind?_

"But they never got my soul, Nick. You saw to that. You stayed with me as I died - you never left my side. You didn't give them the opportunity to take my soul at the end. Your love protected me. So you see, Nick, you did save me after all."

"But you're dead," Nick cried out in anguish.

"Yes, but I never left you, I'm still here."

"That's not good enough."

"It will have to be – my body is dead, there is no spark of life there anymore, keeping the way open. After this length of time, I would be worm food, bro." Mark tried to keep the tome light, but his face darkened. "Even if mom hadn't had me cremated."

"She did what?"

"She knew you might find a way. It's too late for me; let's not allow it to be too late for Sam."

"Why should they be allowed this, you could take over Sam's body." Nick said in desperation.

"And know that my life was at the cost of someone else's? You know I couldn't live with that."

Nick knew, not and still be his brother.

"You know what you need to do." Mark spoke gently.

Nick nodded in defeat. "What about you?"

"Oh, I won't be far," his brother said with a broad smile.

"But I lost him, I lost Sam's soul." The older brother spoke brokenly.

His brother cocked his head in a heart-warming, familiar gesture. "You know that the reason that you liked Sam so much was that he is a lot like me."

"Yeah." He knew.

"And I never went far from you?" Nick nodded. "What makes you think that Sam would be any different?"

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A/N- Well Kaly, hoping this is still to your liking! Hopefully it is not boring and is still holding your interest – but the only way I know for sure if you click on the button below and send me your comments please?

Thanks to everyone who is reading this.

So, nope, not sending Sam to hell…at least not in this Fic, but keep your eyes peeled if you're interested, as a new fic will be coming soon…obviously after I finish this one lol!

Dream.


	8. Chapter 8

**When Angels Fall**

**Author's Note**

For Kaly – wow this Secret Santa fic will be year long at this rate…actually only a few chapters left so hopefully not!

Special mention once more to Mariazinha for her kind words and thoughts, and hoping that her crappy day improves! And to everyone who has been so very patient, please accept my apologies for the time between updates. This has been such a difficult chapter for me - I sincerely hope that you enjoy it.

Special thanks to Geminigirl, Sifi and Beist for being wonderful Betas…what would I do without you? Well, apart from write badly!

**Summary**

One brother makes a bargain that may ultimately cost the Winchesters more than they are willing to pay. This will be slightly AU as will eventually include John, Caleb and Pastor Jim.

**Disclaimer**

Still not mine…but luckily I have a vivid imagination that almost makes up for it! Hey, I said almost…

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**Chapter 8**

Sam was searching desperately for his brother. He had been wrong – so very wrong to have doubted him. To have not believed that both of them could, and should, face anything together.

"We're stronger together." Weren't they his own words? Was he some kind of hypocrite to believe that they applied only when _he_ thought so? _I've been such an idiot._

He concentrated on his destination – Pastor Jim's - he _had_ to get to Dean. He may not have been alive, but the least he could do was be with Dean when he needed him, find a way to have his back, watch over his brother and to offer whatever protection he could. It was the least Sam owed to the man who had spent his life protecting and raising him.

And if he were honest, he missed his brother and his snarky humour and practical jokes. He yearned to once more be a witness to Dean's intense joy and childlike enthusiasm, his confidence and sometimes surprising gentleness, his optimism and courage. Sam found he could not imagine his life, or death without him._ I won't leave you again, Dean_, he promised.

But it hurt it hurt so damn much. Who would have thought that without a body, you could still experience such pain? It was excruciating, but at the same time exhilarating. Exhilarating in the sense that it proved he had not yet been lost completely, but the flip side meant that it felt as though ever single molecule in his body wanted to fly apart, to break free from his hold and continue their journey.

By sheer force of will alone, he remained Sam Winchester; but he knew that he could not keep this up forever.

The young hunter knew he was barely holding his soul together. His only course of action was to purposefully withdraw from the light, for the first time actively seeking the dark that terrified him- _he had to stop his soul from moving on._ And though the only way to do that was to remain angry, it was a dangerous ruse he knew, for if he slipped too far, he could easily become that which they normally hunted – an angry spirit.

As Pastor Jim's came into focus, Sam gave a relieved sigh. Funny, how he still tried to breathe even if his lungs had to be at least fifty feet away from him. He flowed seamlessly through Jim's front door. _Hmmm, maybe I should mention that rock salt and cats-eye shells have no effect on whatever the hell it is that I am. A spirit? If so, shouldn't they at least stop me or at least cause me some discomfort?_

For the first time, Sam actually stopped to consider what had happened. _So the soul doesn't appear to be the same as a spirit_, he mused. _Perhaps the soul is the essence of who you are, and the spirit more of your intent and memory?_

The pain intensified as if discontented from his lack of motion. _Dean, where's Dean?_ Sam cast about with his mind. He had always, without exception, been able to sense when his older brother was near. There was always that sensation of safety and belonging, of being loved and watched over.

_Shit, he isn't here_! For a moment, Sam panicked. The youngest Winchester knew he was losing ground to whatever was pulling at his soul. He had a feeling that passing on could not be avoided forever. No, he had to see his brother one last time. _Dammit, if other spirits can stay, I sure as hell can. _

He hesitated as he felt another familiar presence nearby. _Dad?_ His father had actually come, and even though Sam knew it was only because his message had mentioned the Demon, he didn't care. He closed spectral eyes and wished for just a moment he was still 5 years old, and could crawl onto his Dad's knee and be told that everything would be ok. To rest against his father's chest, hear the strong beat of his heart, feel the warmth and safety of his father's arms hugging him. Sam felt an overwhelming need to see his father.

He entered the kitchen and was taken aback at the unexpected sight of his father's slumped shoulders and wet face. He was sitting next to Sam's corpse, holding one of Sam's hands to his face.

"I'm so sorry, Dad." Sam murmured, feeling a need to make amends even if it was too late. "I'm sorry for the time I wasted being angry, sorry for not understanding that you wanted only to protect me and Dean, to give us the means to protect ourselves, and others who can't. Please forgive me, Dad. _Please_. I was angry and wanted you and Dean to be safe. I didn't want to lose either of you – I just couldn't bear it. I suppose you were right all along. I'm not that strong, Dad. I need you; I need Dean. I love you both."

John looked down at his youngest's cold form. "Dean and I know what happened, we're gonna put this right. But you have to keep fighting and wait for us, Sammy.

John snorted softly at his words, and gently brushed Sam's hair from his face as he continued. "I know waiting was never your strong suit; you always wanted to see the wonders that were out there, not just the nightmares. But Sammy, those wonders can wait for you, son, there's plenty of time for those later. For when we can explore them together, as a family. Besides, Dean would be so pissed if you got first dibs on those Angels, and you know how that brother of yours can pout. Just like your Mom." His father smiled sadly.

Sam reached out and brushed his hand across his father's cheek in wonder at the tears he could see falling. He would never in a million years have thought the ex-Marine would cry for anyone, save Mary and Dean. Let alone his accursed son.

John felt something warm and gentle touch his face.

"Sammy?" He whispered hopefully. Was he actually here? Maybe his stubborn son had escaped the Demon.

But Sam's eyes had caught sight of something beside his body – the Colt.

"Dad – why do you have the Colt here?" John's face did not even flicker in acknowledgement to the question. It was obvious that although his father had felt his hand touch his face, he still could not hear him.

If his father had brought the Colt for the Demon, why was it next to Sam's body?

With sudden and devastating clarity, Sam Winchester understood – it was for him.

"Dad?" He backed away, disbelief and betrayal filtering across his face, his eyes wounded. Utensils on the bench began to rattle and dance unevenly across the work surfaces before falling to the floor, and the kitchen cupboard doors began to shake and bang. The windows frosted as energy that Sam could ill afford to lose was released in his anger.

"Why, Dad?" Both pairs of eyes traced the path of the Colt as it skittered away across the floor, and Sam's whisper soft tones seeped unheard through the suddenly frigid air.

The chairs that had been carefully stacked to one side to allow Dean to tend to his brother now shot across the kitchen, smashing against the cupboards and the walls, the legs breaking and the backs splintering with the force. Glasses that had been stacked on the draining board froze and shattered as the temperature continued to plummet.

"WHY?" And although John could still not hear his son's broken words, the almighty John Winchester realised that this time he may have screwed up spectacularly.

"Sam? Sam! You have to understand. We're trying to free you, to bring you back." At that moment he did not care if the Demon was here with Sam or not, or if this was something else, but he couldn't take the chance. If this was his son, he had to make him comprehend the danger.

"Free me, how? By releasing me in death? You just can't wait to get shot of me for good, can you?" Sam railed against the desolation caused by his father's actions, the wintry temperature of the room mirroring the glacial core settling in his soul. Ice began to form on the work surfaces and it was becoming painful for John to breathe in the frigid air.

This couldn't be his son, the power needed to cause these physical manifestations – this had to be the demon. He bent to fumble for the Colt.

"Sam, if you can hear me, the Demon, it's here. Look at what's happening!"

Sam was tiring quickly, he knew what was happening was dangerous to him but as he saw his father reach towards the gun, he lost the last of his emotional self-discipline.

"Dad, no, please- it's me, it's only me!" He reached out and losing his balance as dizziness overwhelmed him, he fell _through_ his father.

John flinched at the strange sensation, but instead of the raging cold that had swept across the room; he felt only the warmth of Sam's soul, his anguish and pain at what he perceived his father was willing to do.

"I'm sorry Sammy; I just want to bring you back, safe."

"So you brought the Colt here as what exactly – the Winchester version of a comfort blanket? Figures." Sam muttered from floor level.

"Samuel Winchester!" John roared without thinking. "Do not take that tone with me!" Forgetting for a moment that he should be glad his son was still able to talk to him at all. He stopped once he realised he could actually hear his baby boy once more. "Sammy?" He whispered hopefully, _please god, let that be my boy._

Sam scrambled back to his feet and backed away further, "What were you going to do?" He whispered.

"We're trying to get you back, son."

"Why, so you could kill me yourself? Don't lie, Dad. That's for me, isn't it?"

"No, it's for the Demon."

"Then why have it here?"

"Because he may try to merge with you if you came back, and if he did, there'd be no way to separate you, Sammy. Not like this."

Sam was shell-shocked. What was his father saying - that the Demon could tag along like some kind of parasite? He wanted to scream. "But _I_ couldn't kill _you_!" But found that his tongue was somehow sticking to the roof of his non-corporeal mouth. Strange, how physical reactions could linger.

"You're going to kill me if Dean somehow pulls a rabbit out of a hat and brings me back." He whispered, the brief hope that his brother could save him dwindling. _What the Demon couldn't finish, his father would? Had his father even considered any other options? Had he just sat there waiting for the Demon to attempt that – had he took no other precautions at all? _Sam looked around, asides from the damaged furniture and the mess, nothing else had changed. _Obviously not…_

"Am I such a monster? Do you hate me so much, that you could do this? Do you _want _me to stay dead?" _Should I stay dead?_

"I could never hate you Sam, ever, you are my son - but I have to protect Dean, too."

"And would you be sitting there with the Colt if that was Dean lying there? Don't bother; we both know the answer to that one." Sam had not thought his pain could intensify further. He was wrong.

But his father had a point. If he was a danger to Dean, maybe he should stay away, not come back, even if Dean figured something out. But whatever decision he made, either to stay or go, he knew that he had to protect his brother from such an outcome – and at least his father was prepared for this.

"I'm sorry, Dad. You're right. If Dean does somehow get me back-." Sam hesitated. "And if I come back wrong, or twisted, or consumed and merged with a demon, then you shoot me, Dad. But please, you have to keep Dean away. I don't want him involved in that."

Sam retreated still further. "I'm sorry I have been such a bad son, you deserved better. I'm glad that you at least had that with Dean." And he fled.

John sat his eyes bright with tears he no longer had the strength to shed, as he felt the presence that was his son leave the room. _What had he done?_

A voice from behind him spoke with soft anger. "Dear God, John, what were you thinking?" Even though Jim had only heard John's side of the conversation, it was enough to realise the devastating effect it would have on the youngest Winchester.

"Jim, Jesus, Jim, what have I done?"

"You have to stop being the Marine for once in your life, John, or else you will lose _both _your sons." The Pastor looked at the other man sadly. "Just be thankful Dean wasn't here for that particular exchange.

Sam fled the church, his anger and pain growing. Fire roared in his chest fuelled by the feeling of betrayal, his own father was willing to kill him. How twisted was that? Even if it was the logical and right_ tactical_ decision - Sam spat the thought - still he was his son, did that not mean anything?

He had to find his brother. _Please let me find, Dean, _he begged_, please. I'll lie down and go quietly if you let me see my brother one last time._

He almost cried with relief when he heard the familiar roar of the Impala. Dean was here. He started forward to see an extremely pissed off looking older brother stride from the driver's side of the Impala, Caleb quickly joining his side.

_Thank you._ The fire in Sam's soul seemed to reach an almost critical level, and light seemed to be flowing at him from every direction. _No, not yet._ A smile graced the expressive face of the youngest Winchester when he noticed something, and he shot forwards towards his brother, like an eagle soaring towards home.

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A/N…So apologies again in order – I am so sorry that this has taken so long, but I found the scene with John incredibly hard to write. I hope I have not let anyone down. I'm still not happy with the scene but couldn't keep it in limbo forever…a lot like Sam really lol!

Next Chapter is written and beta'd so no long delay for that one, I promise! And a solution of a sort is presented!

Please let me know your thoughts…no flamers though please. I am writing this for my enjoyment, if you don't like it, don't read it. (Sorry had a review on another story that knocked my confidence a little.) Constructive criticism is welcome as always, I am here to improve after all!

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far – it has meant the world to me, really!

Dream


	9. Chapter 9

**When Angels Fall**

**Author's Note**

Another chapter for you Kaly – hope you are still enjoying this! Fond thanks to Sifi, Beist and Geminigirl...beta extraordinaires!

Huge hug and sincere gratitude to everyone who has reviewed so far - I was really worried about that last chapter, so glad that most of you liked it. And thank you for the kind words and encouragement. Gave me the courage to keep posting!

**Summary**

One brother makes a bargain that may ultimately cost the Winchesters more than they are willing to pay. This will be slightly AU as will eventually include John, Caleb and Pastor Jim.

**Disclaimer**

Nope, still not mine…damn…

**Warning**

Lots of naughty words in this chapter - oh and Caleb is still based on Ridley's creation...

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**Chapter 9**

Dean trudged towards the church; he hoped to god his father had some news. Inside, he heard the unusual sound of Jim's voice raised in anger.

"You're a bloody fool, John. What were you thinking?"

Dean and Caleb hesitated at the door of the kitchen as the Pastor continued.

"You bring the Colt here, now? And just when were you planning on telling me about the Reaper? You think I don't know a dark altar when I see one? At least have the good sense to clear it away afterwards."

"It's the Demon, Jim."

"Isn't it always? That doesn't give you the right to do whatever the hell you like! It's about time you started putting that family of yours first!"

"We were told he had Sammy's soul, Jim. What would you have me do?"

"Oh, John. I'm so sorry." The pastor's voice softened momentarily in acknowledgment of the other man's pain, but then hardened once more. "But that doesn't excuse the Colt."

"If we get him back, we don't know what will come back with him."

"And you would kill your own boy, just to get your Demon?" The other man's voice was incredulous and disappointed.

"You're planning to shoot Sammy?" A broken whisper from the doorway caused both men to turn in surprise. "Dad?" Dean's eyes were clouded with confusion, his face reflecting deep betrayal and disgust.

"It's just a precaution, son."

"We haven't even got him back yet and already you're planning to kill him. Jesus, what kind of father are you?"

"Dean, please, you have to understand."

"I understand that our own Dad is so obsessed in getting the demon, he is prepared to sacrifice his own son – what are we fighting for if not for each other?" Dean's voice rose along with his anger.

They were stopped mid flow by a knock at the front door. Caleb quickly took position on one side of the door and Dean stood protectively behind the Pastor as he opened the door.

Three guns pointed at the head of Nicholas Howard, who was standing stiffly knowing he would be less than welcome. Laurel stood standing close to his left shoulder.

"How dare you come here, you son of a bitch?" Dean cocked his gun, his aim steady despite the red mist of rage that was descending. He had an urge to shoot the bastard right where he stood. Talk about shit timing…

"I want to help."

"Sure you do, Nick. That's why you took Sam's soul to give to a demon." Dean's finger tightened on the trigger.

"Dean. Don't." The soft voice of the Reaper held his fire as she moved to stand in front of Nick. "We can save Sam. But we don't have a lot of time."

Dean looked at Caleb who nodded. He studiously ignored his father. By his own actions, John had forgone any say in his sons' lives.

Dean roughly gestured for them to enter, making sure it was with the hand that still held the gun. John led them to the kitchen, where Sam's body still lay. The Reaper approached his corpse and gently laid one hand across his brow.

"There is still time." She murmured in relief.

"Time for what? Last time I looked, my brother was dead. And it was the two of you who killed him." Unfamiliar bitterness laced Dean's words.

"Dean." John admonished.

"Don't even say a word,_ John_." Dean stressed the use of his Dad's name and shock widened his father's eyes. "You have no say in this."

"He's my son!"

"Who you would happily shoot, so back off! He's my responsibility. Then again, he always has been, hasn't he?"

"This isn't achieving anything, Deuce. The pissing contest can wait till later." Caleb interjected, ignoring Dean's glare._ First things first, Deuce. We can kick John's ass later. _

Dean nodded, sensing Caleb's unspoken words. "How can we save Sam?" After all, that was all that really mattered. "And what about his injuries? His body is dead."

"Not completely."

"What?"

Nick sighed wearily as he entered into the conversation. "Sam's soul was taken too early. Laurel took his soul before he was dead, and that is not allowed. Nature has to take its course. And as it was torn from him instead of passing naturally, there is still a spark of life there, a piece of the soul remaining. Keeping the home fires burning as it were, well, smouldering…all we need to do is kindle it…"

"But there is no heart beat, he's not breathing. He has been dead for, Christ, twenty hours now! What about brain damage?" Dean's frantic thoughts came tumbling from his lips.

"The removal of the soul just before death may give the appearance of death, however the body actually slips into a form of suspended animation. Like his body, his brain is basically ticking over." Laurel smiled reassuring.

"But his injuries…"

"I'm not going to lie to you, Dean. If the person is wounded and the wounds are fatal, it will only delay the end; injuries will continue to affect the body as normal, just at a much slower rate. If the soul is not returned quickly, even a healthy body withers and dies. "

"How long?" Pastor Jim piped up, looking worriedly at the severity of the youngest hunters injuries.

"24 to 48 hours depending on the strength of the body and the strength of will of the soul."

"So what can we do, I take it you have a plan?" _Please, god, have a plan. I sure as hell am fast running out of ideas,_ Dean thought desperately.

"Shamanic resurrection." Nick informed, cryptically. At their confused looks, he continued. "In Shamanic healing, a shaman can locate and restore the lost soul. Also a shamanic resurrection has the added advantage that the person is basically 'reborn' – well, their energies are. Whether you like it or not, Sam was 'tagged' by the Demon when he was six months old. It was how it could find him at Stanford and how Meg found him on that abandoned stretch of road. This will remove the 'tag'. It won't stop the Demon from searching for Sam but it should conceal Sam for a time."

"It may escape your notice but we are a little lacking in the Shaman department. It's not like you can pick one up at Wal-Mart." Dean started with mounting hope. It sounded ludicrous and fanciful, but he didn't care. He would happily dance by the light of the moon, with flowers in his hair as the ball dropped in front of millions of spectators on New Years Eve in New York, if it brought his brother back.

"Actually, my boy, I wouldn't rule it out entirely. I have studied enough of Shamanic rituals to be able to carry out one – I just need to know where the soul is and which ritual to use." Pastor Jim offered.

"The soul never went far." Nick spoke softly.

"What?"

"I had it in my keeping for a while, but I underestimated the strength of your brother's will and he escaped."

"That's my boy…but for fu-, I mean Pete's sake, why couldn't he for once have stayed in one place? Do you know where he went?"

"He went home, Dean." Nick smiled, a mixture of envy and sadness at the oldest Winchester.

"Lawrence? Palo Alto?"

"No. He went to the one place he trusted and felt safe; to the one person he needs to be close to. He went to you, Dean. You are his home - you are all that Sam has ever really needed." Laurel spoke gently.

Dean's heart stuttered. He hadn't realised just how much he had needed to hear that Sam still needed him, that he still had a place in his brother's life.

"So where the hell is he?" Dean looked around the room, half expecting to see his brother stepping out with some goofy grin on his face.

Nick pointed to the amulet around Dean's neck. "Where else but in plain sight?"

Caleb snorted, "You never could get shot of the runt when you were younger, Deuce, why should anything be different now?"

"Dean looked down at the amulet in shock. "But Sam's so big." He muttered. Caleb snorted. "Shut the fuck up, Reaves."

"What's he doing in the amulet?"

"Surviving. He was fighting to keep his soul from moving on. He was in a great deal of pain, and needed a place to rest."

"So we can't see him?" Dean couldn't hide his disappointment completely. However, the expression on his face gravitated towards concern when the Reaper's face reflected her confusion, and a little worry.

"There's something wrong."

"There's a lot wrong with this situation, lady."

"No, Dean. I could read Sam up until he entered the amulet. But now, well it's almost like he has barricaded himself in there. "

"What do you mean?"

"He won't communicate. He's thrown up barriers I cannot get through, not without hurting him further. And if he is pained any further, he may let go entirely."

"He can be such an antisocial son of a bitch at times." Dean sighed. He should have known it wouldn't be straightforward – it wasn't exactly the Winchester way. But there was a plan, and there was no way in hell that Dean was giving up now. "Does he even know we can possibly save him?"

"I think so, but all I can pick up are emotions." The Reaper concentrated. Suddenly, she whirled towards John. "You fool." She hissed.

"Amazing how everyone's coming to that conclusion tonight, Johnny." Caleb spoke with rancour.

"What did you do?"

"I told him the truth." John stood firm in his decision. His sons were strong and deserved to know what they were fighting, no matter how frightening or painful it may be. It was better than them being ill-prepared and vulnerable.

"Sammy was here?" For the first time he took note of the room, the mess and damage…_is that ice?_ Dean was beginning to put the pieces together now, what might have happened between his father and brother. The thought chilled him to the core.

"The truth as you see it!" Laurel couldn't believe John's single-mindedness.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, fear once more unfurling.

"I have to protect both my sons!" _I won't lose both_. _I can't._

"Get out." The Reaper spoke firmly.

"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?" Dean's voice was rising, as was his terror. He did not like where this was going at all.

"That is my boy. I am not leaving him." _Or Dean. He is too vulnerable right now. _

"You will do as you are told Winchester, or your 'boy' won't come back at all!"

Everyone flinched when a shot rang out and bits of plaster fell from the ceiling, giving everyone in the room a dusting.

Dean glared around, brandishing the weapon he had just fired. "That's it – unless someone tells me what the fuck is going on, the next shot won't be at the ceiling!"

"I may not be able to read Sam's thoughts, but I can sense his emotions. And he is terrified. And a great deal of that fear is aimed at your father." Laurel explained with quiet anger.

"Dad, what did you say to Sam?" At John's expression, Caleb swore, thought _screw propriety_; he simply took what was needed from John. And was left with his jaw gaping as he saw what had happened.

"You stupid son of a bitch." The psychic muttered.

"Dad?"

"Sam saw the Colt, Dean." Caleb advised Dean.

"You're fucking kidding me." And Sam being his overly brain box self would have put two and two together, and had gotten four.

"He knew you were preparing to shoot him?"

"I explained to him, Dean." John turned to Caleb, who had tensed in anger, his hands clenched into fists that desperately wanted to beat some sense into the older hunter.

"You both know the dangers of bringing a soul back! You know as well as I do that sometimes they don't return alone. What if the Demon got to Sammy first, what if he was overtaken by the Demon?"

John lightly fingered the gun he still held in his hands. The Colt. _Would he be able to shoot his youngest son if it was the only way? "_And it would not be like a simple possession where we might be able to exorcise the demon. No, in a recovery such as this, souls can become irretrievably entwined, and it is impossible to distinguish one soul from the other."

_Would he be able to face his eldest, knowing that he had killed his brother?_

"And you told Sam this?"

"He even agreed to it!"

"Of course he would. Jesus, Dad, Sam would accept the blame for every supernatural death in a five mile radius of him if you give him half the chance!"

Laurel grasped Dean's arm urgently. "There's no point in doing a Shamanic Resurrection Ritual if the soul will not return. It won't work. The soul has to be willing to come back, and from what I can read from Sam, he's decided not to."

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A/N…Dum, dum, duhhhhh

Hehehe…evil cliffie…sorry but really, how could I resist ending there? Seriously though, I hope I have not let you guys down.

Hoping you are still enjoying this, but the only way I know is if you review…so…press the button…pretty please?

Thanks to all who are reading this - you'll never know how much I appreciate it!

Dream


	10. Chapter 10

**When Angels Fall**

**Author's Note**

Wow - this secret Santa is still going Kaly – apologies to all for the delay. Darned R/L getting in the way of my SN obsession lol!

Huggles and warm thanks to Gem and Beist for having both inexhaustible patience and kindness– what would I do without you? All improvements are thanks to them, any mistakes are unfortunately all mine!

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far – I hope you continue to enjoy this!

This chapter is especially dedicated to Jazzy and Sifi - just to let you know that you are both in my thoughts – virtual hugs and best wishes winging their way to you!

**Summary**

One brother makes a bargain that may ultimately cost the Winchesters more than they are willing to pay. This will be slightly AU as will eventually include John, Caleb and Pastor Jim.

**Disclaimer**

This is Kripke's universe, not mine. Now CW, please do the right thing and give these guys a season 3. And 4. And 5……

**Warning**

Shakes head – naughty language- oh and kinda chick-flicky! Caleb is still based on Ridley's creation...

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**Chapter 10**

Dean shook his arm free from Laurel's grasp. "What the hell do you mean? Of course Sam wants to come back! He's never given up on anything in his life!" He had lost so much but Sam had never quit. Until now, Dean had been fairly sure he didn't know how to.

"He's frightened and confused. He has lost his way and is panicking. All I can pick up is that he thinks he is protecting you."

_Great, that old chestnut._ And thanks to _Dad_, Sam thought he was a danger to his brother; worse, he thought his own family felt that way.

"What can we do?" Dean asked the Reaper. He wasn't letting his brother go without one hell of a fight.

"Talk to him, Dean. Convince him to return."

"This is Sam Winchester you're talking about. Do you know how hard it is to change his mind?" Dean asked, his lips twisting in a mirthless, wry smile.

"You're the only person the kid listens to, Deuce." Caleb added softly.

"So, what am I supposed to do? Talk to the talisman?" Dean's voice rose incredulously.

"Actually, we can kill two birds with one stone." Nick spoke up.

"How?"

"For a Shamanic Resurrection, we would need someone to forge a link with Sam, to show him the way home."

"And? C'mon, Nick. It's not like it's far. Sam's body is only in the next room for Christ's sake. Shit, I'll put the amulet around his neck – how hard could it be?" The fear that Dean might fail his brother again gnawed at the elder brother.

"It's not the distance, Dean. Sam is so tired now, so bewildered and lost he can no longer tell the way. He's holding on to the one thing he knows instinctively and that's you, Dean. The spirit world and this one have subtle differences, with eddies and currents that could sweep Sam away if we are not exceptionally careful." Laurel continued.

"I hate to point out the obvious here, but I am not what you could even remotely call a holy man."

"Yeah - The whole celibacy thing would probably kill him." Caleb muttered, not realising until too late that it was Jim who was closest. _Shit…_

"Hush, Caleb. Now's not the time."

The Reaper leant forward, her lips brushing his ear. "Do not underestimate the good in your soul Dean Winchester, nor how much your brother loves you. Sam needs his brother."

_Damned Reapers always knew which buttons to press. _Not that she needed to. Dean could never stand by idly whilst his brother needed him.

"Tell me what to do."

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They had moved Sam's body into the church to surround him with whatever protection the Holy ground could offer. Angelica, to ward negativity, and loosestrife, had been sprinkled liberally in the four corners of the room for protection and harmony and the floor had been purified with burdock to provide protection from below.

Incense sticks of ash, bay, sandalwood and cinnamon, mixed with sprigs of lavender and rosemary had been set at regular intervals around the church. Sachets were set in a pentagram around Sam, with one pouch on Sam's chest at the very centre of the symbol. Vervain had been selected for purification and to ward psychic attack, agrimony and blackthorn were necessary to help return the spell to the sender, in this case Laurel. Mullein was added for health and courage, comfrey for healing and safe travel for Sam and Dean, and cinquefoil for protection and dream divination.

_If neither of us have hay fever at the end of this, it'll be a miracle_, Dean thought looking around the church now only lit by candlelight. _Or one of us will break a leg trying to find the light._

The rite described to Dean seemed to be a combination of elemental ideals, shamanism and candle magic.

He had five candles. With each, he had to chant the relevant invocation, carving with Sam's knife the sigil of the matching element.

The red candle represented change and courage, a healing of vitality, protection and luck. _I wonder if I should make Sam carry one round like Rip van Winkle. The kid needs some good luck in his life for a change_. On this candle he carved the sigil representing fire. He placed this on Sam's right side.

He engraved the symbol of water into the blue candle. The blue was for power and healing, especially for emotional and psychic ailments. It also had the added advantage of banishing malevolent spirits. _Which lets face it would be handy, _Dean thought irreverently_ though there probably aren't enough red candles in the world to combat the Winchester luck._ This was placed on his brother's left, an unconscious balance for the fire.

He set the indigo candle at Sam's head. This was chosen for psychic development and strength, self-confidence and personal power – this candle he etched with the icon for air.

The green candle depicted love, growth and the healing of physical ailments. _Best be careful with this one, bad enough Sam was already several inches taller than he was._ Dean snorted as he continued the invocation, his mind trying desperately to protect him from his fear. On this candle he scored the mark for earth and was placed at Sam's feet.

The final candle was pure white and had been gathered from Pastor Jim's church collection. The white symbolised new beginnings and energy, creativity and communication. This candle was engraved with the mark for spirit. This would be the candle he would use to meditate to achieve a trancelike state in which he could communicate with Sam. _Well that was the working theory anyway. _

He lit the final candle and then carefully tied a silver threaded cord linking his left and Sam's right hands. Something physical for him and Sam to connect to, linking the spiritual world to the physical one. He gently grasped his brother's cold hand in his own, a thumb absently rubbing across Sam's knuckles.

Lastly, he wrote Sam's name on a piece of paper, and, settling himself in front of his brother, he placed the paper in the flame of the white candle. He grasped the pendant around his neck with his free hand - his entire focus was on the paper curling and burning on the candle at his feet. His breathing slowed and deepened the herbs and incense burning around them let him drift. His eyes became unfocussed as his consciousness lost grip of this world and slowly flowed to another.

Laurel watched the scene, her presence hidden and unnoticed. Sam's tall body lay outstretched and defenceless; his dark hair swept from his eyes as if someone had been determined to give him as much light to his soul as possible. The soft candlelight illuminated his features with an almost other-worldly glow, a poor imitation of the young man's distinctive warmth. Even in death his face appeared too innocent and impossibly young for the life he had lived.

Dean knelt at his side, his shoulder heavy with weariness and a fear of failure. However as his concentration deepened, the tautness in his strong frame eased and his face lost the masks it normally bore. Without his defences, his face too held an unexpected innocence; still bearing the traces of a soul bereft and grief-stricken. Lost.

And in the gentle, warm light of the candles and in the absolute stillness of the church, the Reaper held her breath in awe and wonder at the bond that these two brothers shared. In respect she withdrew, leaving the two brothers surrounded by the flickering glow and encroaching darkness to face their demons. The delicate balance of light and shadow reflecting the future of the souls below - so finely balanced, so perilously close to falling. And as she left; she kept safe the fragile hope that their strongest quality – the love and faith in the other - would be their salvation. That their fear would not be their destruction.

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Dean kept his eyes closed as Jim had instructed him, knowing if he opened his eyes he would lose the concentration needed to sustain an extended meditative state. At least that's what Jim called it; Dean still thought it was way too Yanni and yoga-like for him.

_Sam _he whispered in his mind, focussing on an image of Sam, the most familiar being that of his brother sitting beside him in the Impala, his head half-cocked and his lips twitching into the easy smile that these days was becoming all too rare.

A familiar presence drew near.

"Sam?" Dean was almost reluctant to speak, frightened to in case it broke the fragile connection.

Only silence. And Dean could almost feel his brother move a little away and all he could sense was fear.

"Sammy, it's just me. I've come to take you home." The awareness of his brother seemed to weaken imperceptibly, as if he had taken another step away.

The fear now contained tendrils of panic and the sensation of distance increased.

"There's nothing to be afraid of little brother. You're safe now." Confusion muddied the emotions now swirling around Dean and he realised that Sam had not been fearful for his own safety.

"Don't be an idiot. I can look after myself." This was met with disbelief.

"Enough with the silent treatment, Sam. C'mon, you love to talk – and you have a captive audience. It must be killing you."

"If I talk will you leave me alone?" His brother's familiar soft tones filled the air around him and Dean could feel the grin spread across his face. He felt an almost irresistible urge to open his eyes.

"No." _Stupid question, Sam. Not gonna happen._

His brother sighed in fond exasperation. "I can't, Dean. What if it doesn't work right and I come back different? It's too dangerous."

"We'd fix it."

"You can't fix everything."

"Says who?"

"Life." Sam's voice sounded incredibly weary and careworn. "Be sensible, Dean. What if the demon somehow tagged along, what if Dad..."

"Dad's an asshole." The elder brother interrupted angrily. He could feel the connection waver with his heightened emotion and Sam's shock at what he had said. He needed to stay calm.

"Christo." Sam's voice suddenly regaining the trace of fear from earlier.

"I'm not possessed, dude." Amusement laced Dean's voice.

"But you called Dad an asshole. You've _never _called him an asshole."

"Yeah, well I was trying to protect your delicate sensibilities. Actually, while I'm on the subject, you're an asshole, too."

"What?"

"What the hell were you thinking, Sam? Making deals with Reapers?" Dean was fighting down the fear-fuelled fury that threatened to overwhelm him every time he thought about Sam's deal.

"I wasn't going to lose you. I couldn't let you die!" Sam's voice rose, the timbre still catching an etching of remembered grief.

"But it's ok for you to? Tell me college boy, did you never come across the word 'hypocrite' in all your studies? Or the term 'selfish bastard'? Did you never think how I would feel knowing you died because of me?"

"You were never supposed to find out at all." Sam murmured.

"Oh, that makes it alright then! Shit, Sam, whatever happened to not keeping secrets from each other or lying?"

"I'm sorry, Dean, but I would do it again in a heartbeat. You can't make me regret my decision, not when it saved you." Sam's voice was firm and Dean knew it was pointless to continue this for now.

"We'll talk about this later, once you're back."

Sam shook his head before realising that his brother couldn't see the action.

"No, Dean, Dad's right."

"No, he's not."

Two astounding statements in as many minutes. _Good thing I'm dead already, or else the shock could have killed me, _Sam thought to himself humourlessly.

"It's over. I'm dead. You always say what's dead should stay dead."

"Doesn't count. You're not dead, Sammy. Well, not completely."

"What?"

"Something about your soul being taken too soon." Dean quickly explained the situation with Nick and Laurel. "Honestly I don't give a rat's ass why and how but if we can get you back to you body soon, then it's a do-over, no zombie, no consequences."

"There's always consequences Dean, it just sometimes takes time to realise what they are." Sam spoke tiredly.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Dean's voice was firm.

_Like that argument would stop Sam __from disagreeing with him._

"Two wrongs don't make a right." His brother countered.

"Don't go looking for trouble." The elder brother could feel his lips curve. Really, Sam should know better than to start this game.

"Don't bite off more than you can chew." The youngest Winchester's voice warmed with his amusement.

"Don't put the cart before the horse." Dean answered

"Don't..." Sam started.

"Are we really going to do the whole wise old sayings thing, because you know being older, and wiser, I'll kick your ass?" Dean interrupted.

"Well, you are old…"

"Don't start. You know it's not wise to piss off the man with a shotgun full of rock salt." Dean warned.

"You wouldn't shoot your own brother would you?" Sam teased. He had missed his brother so much he couldn't resist falling into the familiar banter. However, the moment the said those words, he wished he could pull them back. _**He**__ had shot his own brother – four times, five counting the rock salt…_

Dean could feel the guilt permeate the air around them and internally groaned. He knew that Sam would never forgive himself for the events at Roosevelt Asylum. "Let it go, Sam." He whispered.

"Would you?" His brother argued.

_No._

Sam continued. "I know what it feels like, to shoot my brother. We were lucky, I didn't kill you. But it taught me that I could never live with that if I were to ever actually succeed. Don't you see, Dean? One day I _will_ be a danger to you, either by my own hand or an error of judgement or the demon controlling me. Dad knows this, and deep down, brother, you know this. This is the best way."

"No, this is the stupid way..."

"Leave, Dean."

"Not gonna happen, Sam. We can fight this, and we can fight the demon."

"I'm tired, Dean. I'm tired of fighting, I'm tired of living with the guilt of those that have died because of me, of worrying in case I hurt someone, hurt you. I'm tired of being afraid."

"So, this is your answer? Hide away from the world, from the demon, _from me_? I never took you for a coward, Sam." The elder brother provoked.

"Dammit Dean, can't you see this is the only way I can protect you from me?" Sam's voice was strained.

"Stop being a drama queen, Frances. I do not need protection from you. You would never hurt me. Shit, Sam, you feel sorry for half the spirits we come across. You're the most compassionate and gentle man I know. I swear I have more to fear from the tooth fairy than from you. Actually I always found that little bitch creepy, I mean, kids' teeth? She's probably working some freaky-assed voodoo crap on them."

"Dean."

"C'mon Sam. You're not gonna give up on me are you?" Dean became aware he was resorting to wheedling.

"I can't risk it."

"Can't? Or won't."

"Won't."

_Damn, damn, DAMN his stubborn little brother to hell!_ Dean took a deep breath, reasoning wasn't going to work, and that only left emotional blackmail.

"Please, Sam. You promised you wouldn't leave me alone, remember?"

"You have Dad."

"You want me to be like him, dude? Because you know that's how it will turn out."

Sam avoided the question. "You've always wanted to be like Dad, Dean, ever since you were little."

"You wanted to be a ballerina."

"I did not! No, I used to want to be you." Sam admitted quietly.

"What?"

"You were my hero, Dean, still are. You were always so sure, so confident and strong – and Dad thought the sun shone out of your ass."

"He's not the only one."

His brother ignored him as he continued. "You were always the strong one – I'm the weak link in the chain. Everything seemed to come so easily to you and I always felt like I was a weight around your neck, pulling you down, threatening to drown you."

"That's a bit melodramatic, even for you, don't you think?"

"You always looked out for me, brought me up, taught me everything I knew."

"Finally, you admit it."

"Hear me out, Dean. You gave so much up for me, your own childhood, for a start. I can never repay you for all that you have done. This way, at least I could protect you, give a little back."

"You want to be like me? Then that's easy - I wouldn't abandon you!"

"I'm not! I swear. I'm doing this for you! Please Dean, please understand. I don't _want _to leave." His brother's voice sounded near tears and distraught.

"Then get your stubborn, scrawny, beanpole ass back home. I'll never forgive you if you walk out on me again, Sam. Not like this. You want to repay me, then stop hiding away here - you owe me that much!"

He could feel Sam's guilt and distress at the pain he thought he was causing his brother and Dean kept his real feelings under wraps. He knew what buttons to press and he would not hesitate in pushing them if it helped save his brother. He wasn't hurt at Sam wanting to just let go, he understood his brother was only trying to keep him from harm, to do what he thought was the right thing. But protecting his brother was his job, not Sam's. _Yeah, I'm a hypocrite too…_

"What if I come back wrong, De?" Sam's distress leeching into his voice and Dean wanted nothing more than to pick his brother up in his arms like when they were little and hide along with him.

"We have put so much protection in Jim's church you'd think Jesus himself was visiting."

"But what if the Demon manages to get through? Dad said it was irreversible. One of you would have to shoot me, De, and I couldn't do that to you."

"Dad should learn to keep his mouth shut."

"You know he's right." Sam sighed. "I don't want to do that to either of you. Please don't stay angry at Dad. He's trying to do the right thing."

"I know, just sometimes his priorities are a little screwed. And let's face it – Dad has been wrong before." Sam huffed a laugh. Dean's voice gentled, "Nick didn't tell the Demon where you are, he doesn't know you're here and you are in the most protected place on earth. Please Sammy, I need you to come back; don't give up on me just yet. We can take on the future later."

"But what if…"

"No more what ifs, little brother. We'll beat this, always have, always will."

"But…"

"No, Sam. You're not alone; you don't have to fight this by yourself. I know you're tired but we can do this. Together, we can do this."

"I don't want to hurt you." Sam whispered.

"I know, but if you let go now kiddo, you'll hurt me far more. Come on home, Sammy, for me?" It had never failed, from learning to eat solids to tying his laces, for hunting and for quieting arguments with their Dad; Sam had always caved when Dean used this tactic. It was underhanded and manipulative, but it worked.

Sam closed his eyes in defeat. He never could refuse his brother.

"For you."

Dean held out an unseen hand. "Take my hand. There's a cord attached to my wrist. It will guide your way back."

Sam held onto his brother's hand tightly, suddenly frightened to let go. He had felt the dreadful pull to move on earlier, before he entered the protection of the amulet. He felt like he was still 5 years old clinging to the safety of his brother.

"What if I'm not strong enough, De? What if I can't find my way, what if I become lost?"

"I'll always find you, Sammy. I promise, I'll always find you."

Sam relaxed - his faith in his brother finally giving him the strength to try. "For Dean…" He whispered to himself. His brother was right, he owed Dean this at least and let go of his brother's hand.

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Dean opened his eyes to find that his father, Caleb and Jim had come back into the church. He ignored them and watched his brother's body with desperate hope, waiting for any sign that the ritual had worked. Sam remained still and lifeless. He still had a hold of one of Sam's hands, and gently brushed his thumb across the knuckles. He leant across his brother's shoulder, a wisp of breath brushing across his brother's ear.

"Please Sammy, come home..."

Still nothing.

Dean continued in the same whisper-soft tone. "You're gonna make me say it Sam aren't you? In front of witnesses. Alright you needy bitch, I love you, Sammy. Now get your ghostly ass back into your body before I shoot Damien here and send him to fetch you."

"You should have gotten a refund from that Charm School you sent Deuce to, Winchester." Caleb muttered to John. Dean should have known Caleb would hear. John glared at him, his eyes clearly telling him to shut the hell up

Dean felt as if the air was being sucked from the room. Light seemed to dance in front of his eyes and dizziness swept through him. Small globes, brilliant and mesmerising, began to rise from the pendant. They swirled, incandescent, breathtaking, bright colours flowing and pulsing in a flight of fluidic light. They danced almost playfully, effortlessly and flowed out around the room.

"Dammit Sam, you're going the wrong way." Dean muttered.

The globes briefly touched against each person in the room, a soft feather-light glance, but with each touch a feeling of love and warmth, a lightening of the weary souls within. A gift of essence.

Dean began to panic. "Get your ass over here Sam and back in your body. Stop fucking around." He was terrified his brother was actually saying goodbye.

The lights finally soared back, but instead of Sam's body they flowed around Dean and with the touch Dean could finally sense his brother. The touch was fleeting but warmed his soul, a sense of an apology for decisions made, a determination to go on, but most of all love and gratitude towards the elder sibling.

"Enough of the chick flick, Sam." Dean reproached and the lights lifted away and rested upon Sam's body.

Dean watched, unknowingly holding his breath as the lights seemed to slowly sink into Sam, and then, with a suddenness that startled him, Sam drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Dean grasped his hand tightly.

The young hunter's eyes opened, and the wide brown eyes shining out were unmistakably Sam's.

"Found you." Dean whispered.

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A/N – I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I am rather worried in case it is too syrupy and that you hate it!

Frets.

Oh well, too late now! Please read and review and let me know what you think. I seriously appreciate everyone who takes the time to review. You guys make my day - thank you! I only ask that if you do have any constructive criticism, you have the courtesy to not do it anonymously and to allow me the opportunity to respond. It can be a little upsetting and frustrating especially if there is a reason I have done something in a particular way. Also, I can then thank you for taking the time to review - as long as fanfic plays nice that is!

Thank you for reading!

Dream


	11. Chapter 11

'**When Angels Fall **

**Author's Note**

Well, we have finally come to the end of my Secret Santa fic for **Kaly** from SFTCOL(AR)S – Merry Christmas! Yes, I am very, very slow! It was a bit surreal writing something happening on Christmas Day given that it is August. 

Apologies for the delay to everyone, especially Kaly, I hope this meets your request and is to your liking. Hoping I have not let you down and that you can forgive me. Huge thanks to Gem as always for the generous sharing of her time and talent!

**Summary**

One brother makes a bargain that may ultimately cost the Winchesters more than they are willing to pay. This will be slightly AU as will eventually include John, Caleb and Pastor Jim.

**Disclaimer**

Unfortunately all my best efforts have been in vain and nothing Supernatural belongs to me. It remains the property of the one seriously evil and talented Erik Kripke and the CW – now lets start pestering them for a season 4!

**Warnings**

A few bad words, a wee bit pain and gore, um and angst. Possibly even schmoop.

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'**When Angels Fall.**

**Chapter 11**

Dean looked down at his brother with relief so intense he almost toppled.

"Hey, Sammy…" He whispered.

"Dean?" Sam wrinkled his brow in confusion, but before the elder brother could answer, Sam stiffened and a moan escaped his lips.

"Sam? What's wrong?"

But Dean could clearly see what was wrong - sutures meticulously stitched were quickly unravelling and his careful ministrations rendered useless as the wounds slowly pulled apart.

Dean almost gagged as could literally see the skin pulling apart.

Blood began to seep into Sam's shirt as it oozed and trickled down his chest and side, an accusing stain of crimson rapidly spreading.

Sam groaned again.

"Laurel! Nick! Get over here now! He's bleeding." Dean began to apply pressure and although Sam flinched at what had to be agonising pain, he did not pull back. In fact, he pulled closer.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do." He gasped out through cracked lips. Lips that now too were starting to stain red Sam's internal injuries also made themselves known.

"Shhh, Sam, we'll take about this later." No way, not after all of this was Dean going to even give a moment's thought to Sam not having a _later_.

"Dean…" A bubble of blood and air formed around Sam's lips and he coughed weakly, closing his eyes as a fresh wave of torment hit. He coughed again, trying desperately to catch his breath, but it wasn't working.

The elder hunter's hands were now drenched in his brother's blood as he quite literally kept his brother from tearing himself apart with each wrenching cough, his fingers slipping and sliding on the slick red film now soaking Sam's chest and abdomen.

_Christ, I can't see what to hold together_. Dean blinked back tears. He couldn't afford to let his vision blur, and so he turned the tears inward, burning an acid trail down his throat and to his heart.

"It's ok, its gonna be ok…"He murmured repeated, reduced to babbling, not having the power to form any other words.

Sam turned wide, terrified eyes on his brother as he tied to suck air into torn and ruptured lungs. He grasped Dean's arm with a surprisingly tight grip. "De."

He whimpered out and he pulled his brother close so that he could press his head against him, burrowing his brow against the warm material of Dean's shirt, needing to feel the comfort of having his brother near.

"Nick!" Dean called out in fury. This was _not _the way this was going down. They were meant to be saving Sam, not tearing him slowly to shreds. "Do something!"

"I'm here." A soft, gentle voice whispered in Dean's ear.

_Laurel._

She placed her hands on top of Dean's. A warmth spread from above his hands, then somehow _through._

It reminded him of when he was a kid, and he had held up his hands towards the sun, watching the light shining through them. It was the same sensation.

Laurel's hands now glowed with a pulsating brightness that made Dean's hands itch.

"Stay still." Laurel instructed in a voice uncharacteristically firm.

Sam cried out again, a harsh, agonised sob that broke the last of Dean's defences.

"Laurel, _please,_ help him." Dean whispered.

"Just a moment longer." Laurel's hands trembled slightly at the world of hurt beneath her hands, both Sam and Dean's.

"He's in agony, dammit!"

"And he will continue to be for a little while longer. There had to be some payment, Dean, some balance. I'm sorry." The Reaper looked compassionately at the torn elder brother, tears filling her eyes at the physical torment of one boy mirrored in the emotional anguish of the other.

"You lied!"

"No, I returned his life to him as promised, his soul as much his as it ever was. But equilibrium must be maintained. Pain as payment for your life."

Dean wanted to hit her, but Sam, writhing and twisting beneath his hands, brought him back to his senses.

"Sam?" he brushed damp strands of hair from his brother's eyes with blood-smeared fingers, leaving a scarlet trail across his brother's brow. Quickly he wiped the offending stain away with his sleeve.

"Sam, you have to look at me." Dean spoke with an intensity that was compelling and his brother opened pain-dulled eyes, frighteningly unfocussed and soul-weary. Dean knew he had to keep Sam in the here and now, to give Laurel time to heal him.

"Laurel's gonna heal you, Sam, but it's going to hurt. I'm sorry, bro. Just breathe through it and stay here with me, deal?"

Sam nodded weakly, his eyes fixed firmly on his brother and Dean was shocked momentarily speechless to see such unquestioning trust there.

"Ready, Sam?" Laurel whispered.

"Haven't we been here before?" Sam gasped out tiredly, before nodding for her to continue.

It felt as though a white-hot poker had been thrust deep into his chest, his abdomen, and his shoulder, as Laurel seemed to cauterise the wounds from the inside out. He could feel bones resetting and knitting, feel skin, muscle and tendon pull together and mesh.

He could feel every molecule in his body slowly repairing itself and he was lost in a maelstrom of searing sensation.

Dean watched in horror as beneath his hands, Sam's flesh began to pull together, and grimaced at the sound of setting bones, the popping of joints moving back into place, the strange sucking noise of bloods being forced back into their proper channels.

The experienced hunter, veteran of many a gruesome sight, found this more than he could tolerate. Keeping his hands firmly in place, he turned and vomited, wiping his chin against his shoulder when the heaves subsided.

Sam moaned and burrowed more deeply against him in a bid to escape, to hide from the pain, as Laurel moved him so that she could tend to the wounds on his back. He leaned heavily against Dean, who took the chance to savour the contact. To feel his brother, warm once again, to inhale the scent that was uniquely Sam¸ to breathe in his brother's life as if it were oxygen.

It was more powerful than that.

He tightened his grip as Sam's arms reached around him, fingers wrapping themselves tightly in Dean's shirt.

Sam felt himself raised and the painful healing process now moved to the back of his shoulder. His brother was supporting him and Sam didn't fight the urge to hold on and keep him close.

He buried his face in the crook between Dean's neck and shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around his brother.

He was never letting go again.

As the pain increased once more, Sam felt his world tilt and shift, his vision greying out.

_No…I have to stay here…_

He forced his battered body to breathe in and the smell of Dean, of leather, gun oil and aftershave, the all-permeating smell that was as familiar to Sam as his own, filled his senses.

It helped him breathe.

Greedily, he breathed in again and with each breath found the pain receding, until gradually, achingly slowly, it began to fade.

"It's done, Sam. You can rest now." Laurel murmured, placing a hand on Sam's cheek, then Dean's.

He didn't want to close his eyes just yet, though, didn't want to give in to the weariness that was dragging him to sleep. He wanted just a moment longer to savour the life that now coursed through his veins, to cherish the second chance that had been given to him. A moment longer to hold on to that which he held most dear.

_Dean._

And knowing this was possibly the last opportunity he had to steal a hug from his completely non-touchy-feely, macho and so-not-crying-into-his-shoulder-brother, he seized the opportunity to hold on.

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John stood silently watching his two sons, several tears daring to escape and for once running unchecked down his unshaven face. "Thank God." He whispered, roughly rubbing a hand across his face as he turned to walk away.

"You are not seriously leaving _now_?" Caleb grabbed his arm and looked at him with undisguised disgust.

"It nearly got my boys, Caleb. Don't you realise how close that bastard came? We need to keep him as far from my sons as possible." It didn't matter how much John wanted to stay, to keep his sons close and bask safe in the knowledge that his family was near. But John knew he had to think rationally, tactically. That yellow eyed son of a bitch knew that Nick had Sam's soul in his keeping; it wasn't going to wait forever. And his terror was now tenfold, realising that it was not only Sam the demon was hunting, but both Sam _and_ Dean that were in its sights.

It was time to return to the hunt.

He softly called Nick across and pulled him to one side. The two men's low murmuring ended when Nick nodded and walked back to where Laurel still stood, almost standing guard over the two brothers.

Sam had finally succumbed to exhaustion and was now asleep, his cheek still resting against his brother's chest. Dean sat; one hand fisted in the back of Sam's shirt, cradling him close, the other absently brushing through Sam's hair. Dean's chin rested on top of his brother's head, his eyes also beginning to close as his brother's soft breathing lulled him, each puff of breath a balm on his soul.

"Laurel, we have to go. John has an idea to draw my father from here. His soul has enough of the same flavour to fool my father from a distance. We need your help."

Laurel reluctantly left her post to follow the half-demon to where the elder Winchester stood.

"What you wish will cause you great pain."

"It will give my boys time, time to heal, to get some distance between them and the demon."

The Reaper tilted her head to one side, appraising. "You surprise me, John. For a man so calculating, so focussed, you have a strange depth of soul."

"I will do whatever it takes to protect my sons. They have paid enough."

The Reaper nodded, "They have. They have paid more than their due."

"They have paid mine. I have made many decisions that have hurt them—not least of all, this." He gestured to the Colt.

The Reaper smiled, a brief light flickering in her eyes. She cupped one hand to John's face. "We each have decisions we regret, John Winchester. We each have penitence owed. Let this be your atonement for you actions."

She closed her eyes and John felt an ice-cold pain deep in his chest and an eerie, wrenching sensation.

As he reopened his eyes, he could see a faint glow in Laurel's hands.

"Is that…?"

"A sample of essence. A shard of your soul." She held her hand out to Nick who handed her the amulet. She brought her hands together and the light vanished within it.

"Don't worry, John. We can be far from here by sunrise. And maybe if we're lucky, my dear demonic father will fall for the bait and walk into the trap."

John turned to Caleb, who shook his head, a mixture of respect and fear filling him for his friend. John nodded in the direction of his sons, "Watch over them for me." He commanded.

"Jim can. I think you'll need more backup than they do." Caleb started to follow the elder hunter to the door. "Besides, Sam is a bitchy patient and Dean is a grumpy bastard when Sam is hurt. I'll get more peace and quiet with you. Not to mention a chance to even a few scores of my own."

John nodded his acceptance, dark eyes once more searching out his family. "Merry Christmas, boys. Stay safe until I can come back and explain." He turned abruptly and walked back out into the still falling snow. Nick and Caleb following, a shimmer at Nick's left for an instant taking form, three men briefly becoming four.

Dean's eyes cracked open as he watched his father and Caleb leave, a small smile of understanding gracing his handsome features, He wasn't stupid, nor was he deaf. He knew what John had done. Maybe his father wasn't infallible like he used to believe, but maybe he was something better. Their Dad may have given a splinter of his soul to the Reaper, but he had regained the rest of it for himself. "Well, whaddya know Sammy, maybe Dad isn't such a lost cause after all."

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The brothers were finally alone; Sam tucked into Pastor Jim's bed, his few remaining wounds now under control, cleaned and firmly bound. _A reminder_. Laurel had cautioned.

_Like either of us need one of those._ Dean had thought.

"Promise me, Sam, that you'll never do something as stupid as that again? You never surrender yourself for me, for anyone, got it?"

"No" Sam shook his head sadly.

"What?"

"You heard me, Dean, I said no. I won't make a promise I can't keep."

"You selfish bastard!" Dean couldn't believe Sam would even dream of putting him through this again.

"I need you, Dean. I wouldn't survive losing you again." Sam turned earnest eyes on his brother.

"Yes, you would." _Hypocrite._

"I wouldn't want to." A heartbreaking confession.

Dean opened his mouth to reply but stopped. How could he argue the point when he wouldn't want to, either?

"Dammit, Sammy." He leaned his shoulder against his brother. "What are we going to do?"

"Live forever?" The solemn gaze now sparked with a mischievous light, a childhood promise remembered.

"Sounds a plan. And Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Don't you ever die on me again."

"Will try my best." A crooked smile brightened Sam's tired face.

"If you do, you had better make sure there's room for us both where we're heading, and it had better be the end of the world, you hear me?"

"Love you too, Dean"

"You are such a girl…" And for the first time in many years, he bent down and lightly kissed his brother on the top of his head. "Merry Christmas, Sam."

"Merry Christmas, Dean."

As Dean rose he asked his brother, "So did you ask Santa for anything this year? Your stupid stunt may have gotten you crossed off his list."

"No need, Dean…have everything I want right here." Sam slurred softly, the painkillers Pastor Jim had administered finally kicking in. His eyes were shining softly in the firelight, his warm smile lighting his face as he looked at his brother with obvious affection.

_Me too, Sammy, me too_…"You have no imagination, bro…"

"With your taste, Dean, I'm not surprised you need a good imagination…"

"Not cool Sam, not to mention complete and utter bullshit…"

"Need I mention that waitress in Tampa?"

"Below the belt bro…"

"Yeah I remember…" Sam sniggered sleepily…

"Go to sleep, Sam"

"Stay till I fall asleep, De?" Sam asked suddenly, turning vulnerable eyes on his brother and looking a lot younger than his 23 years.

"Sure, kiddo." Dean stretched out on top of the covers next to Sam. Beside him, he could feel Sam finally relax and his breathing even out. The steady rise and fall of Sam's chest soothed his overly frayed nerves and for the first time in twenty-four hours, Dean felt he could breathe. Despite all the odds, his brother was no longer falling.

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A presence watched, unseen from the darkness, striking blue eyes watching the scene contemplatively. She knew the importance of those under her watchful gaze.

The Dark cannot abide the Light. It seeks it, wishes to diminish and devour it. To consume it utterly until the light flickers and dies…For light is the one thing the darkness truly fears; a tiny spark can weaken it, a faint ember can hold it at bay, and a bright flame can banish it completely. And Sam and Dean fairly glowed with a luminosity of spirit. And the Dark was terrified.

As the two brothers slept, Laurel hovered over them. None knew her true form or her fate at the hands of the demons would have been that much more cruel. She had disguised herself as a Reaper, for their powers were similar in nature- an angel charged with the protection of souls, she had failed once and this had been her penance. To be bound to the man whose soul had nearly slipped through her fingers into the awaiting night.

And then, along came the Winchester men – all three souls so bright and intense, dangerous, courageous and terrifyingly close to falling. And against her better judgement, she let herself be drawn in, became invested in their survival.

She spread her wings silently, sheltering the brothers below, shielding them from evil eyes – if only for one night, she could at least offer them her meagre protection, keep them hidden from searching eyes. Give them this one safe harbour from the storm.

_Fin._

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**A/N**.

A massive thanks to everyone that has read this story, a virtual hug and heartfelt gratitude to each and every one of you that reviewed. You have brightened the life of this little fic writer!

Please let me know what you think of the ending, I must confess to finding it very hard to write endings, I guess I just don't want to leave our boys! Its nerve-wracking, especially when you have all been so kind.

Hugs!

Thanks for your patience and your understanding.

Love

Dream

xx


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